I’ve never experienced seasons until coming to Whitman. And that says a lot when considering it’s barely autumn now. It’s odd to not be concerned about hurricanes in September and early October, but instead worry about whether or not I should wear a coat on top of my already warm sweater.
I have never had to wear a sweater in September. I have never caught a cold as early as October. But I am slowly realizing that these brand new experiences I’m barely being introduced to at 19 years old are experiences that are “normal” and parallel to the lessons taught in elementary school about what seasons are and why they happen.
It’s so hard to compare Houston weather to Walla Walla. I was on the phone with my dad telling him how cold it is, with temperatures getting to the 30’s. He then proceeded to tell me how excited he was that there was a cool front heading their way! But then I asked, “how cold will it get then?”. He chuckles and tells me it’ll reach the 60’s… as a low temperature for the day. We both laughed over the phone together, and I was hit with the realization that no matter how many sweaters I bought, no matter how many wool socks my mom shipped to me, the mental transition to real life seasonal change is something I could never have been prepared for.
But with the struggle comes a beauty I never knew existed. I’ve seen leaves turn multiple colors unless I watch a Hallmark movie. To witness it in real life is kind of (cheesily) magical. I feel like such a tourist as I take pictures of the different phases of fall, but I don’t think I’ll get used to it. At least not anytime soon. What a transition it will be when I head back to Houston during the winter, only to see most of the plants untouched and unbothered.