Fall has Sprung, The Grass is Ris

"I think I want Rosé, it's fall."

Appreciating why Spring is the Best Time of Year Here

It's funny to me that after all these years living on the east coast—far away from where there is no fall, no summer, no spring—that I'm just now noticing that fall isn't my favorite time of year. Yesterday, I sat out with my friend John last night for an impromptu happy hour at a rather straightforward little half-price bottle night and sipped Rosé. 

Now I have nothing against Rosé like most Americans, but I really was feeling a white wine coming on. This, John set me straight, wasn’t in the cards.

"I think I want Rosé, it's fall, and we'll not be drinking that for much longer" John remonstrated.

I half-heartedly mentioned that I don't think fall is the only time of year to drink Rosé, and besides, it's only September 17th, it's still officially summer, and there was this lovely looking Viognier on the list, and.... 

"Well, we aren't likely to drink Rosé once winter gets here, so let's get a Rosé." I had to remind myself that his clinical propriety was making the wine purchasing decisions a lot easier, so I acquiesced.

About 30 minutes in I realized the back of my thighs and shins were covered in mosquito bites. This probably had nothing to do with the Rosé, but I needed an excuse to throw into the mix.Were this spring, that never would have happened.

A Handy Map Confirming my Suspicions:
DC is a Hotbed of West Nile Mosquitoes That Seek me out.

I was in wool work trousers for god'ssakes. How on earth were they finding my veins through worsted wool? About a decade ago, the West Nile Virus Mosquito came into the swamp-riddled mid-Atlantic and settled in my neighbor with abandon. Every year about this time, I find myself swarmed by these seemingly invisible beasts.

This leads me to the point of today's missive: I usually think of myself as fairly literate in the writing, thinking, and speaking department, but to have gone this long without realizing that autumn might actually be my least favorite season (after summer, which is always disgusting, even in a good year like 2013) here in the District, I begin to wonder.

• Am I paying attention? 
• How have I not noticed that the swarms of swamp mosquitoes that seem to only find me and not my friends at happy hours are devouring me? 
• Why is it that what I remember as long afternoons lolling in the waning sunshine turn into short meet 'n' greets, as the cool evening envelopes us and we have to cut our revelries short, move indoors, and close the windows and doors to keep out the coming chill?

Well, we're here now and I think to myself, did I sufficiently honor spring and all its mosquito-free glory, luxuriating in late afternoon sunsets and warming breezes? Did I realize how lucky I am that god shined down his light on me, just so I could soak up another care-free, post-work afternoon with friends and silky Viogniers (a wine that is not season-specific)?

Well, here's my effort to recapture what I fear I've forgotten, acknowledge how lucky we are here in the District to have such amazing weather now that global warming has made this area so much more hospitable than when I moved here, and to think how after all the lousy news stories of joblessness and misery across the states since 2008, that I haven't experienced this myself or with my immediate circle of friends.

Fall is here, it's still beautiful everyday, and I owe it to the universe to claim each day as a fleeting blessing.

Wish you were here.