June Renew: Day Nineteen
It’s cold out there. Cold for June, that is. Something in the seasons just doesn’t feel quite right, and it feels like someone is depriving us of what’s really meant to be out there. I look around Manhattan and feel like all the colors have been drained out of it. Like the entire city’s saturation filters are off. Any vibrancy it once had has fallen by the wayside, and the reality of what’s around me is replaced by a less-than-illuminating hue.
Something I’ve always loved about the northeast is the distinct feeling of four seasons in a year. We don’t get a snowy winter much anymore, but it certainly gets cold. My favorite part is when the seasons click over into fall. It’s like something simply changes overnight and the cool autumn settles onto Manhattan. I remember one time years ago, like in 2014 or so, I burst out of my apartment one September night and was greeted by the first day of fall. I felt it. I could smell it. I was transported back to autumn days in New Jersey where all the leaves turned shades of gold and yellow and red. I knew something big had arrived. It all fit into place. And now it’s all over, at least for now.
When I look outside, I don’t feel like it’s a summer month. I still can’t smell anything, so I wouldn’t even know when the time of year changes. It’s just a drab, not quite seasonal state out there right now, and I can’t help but feel they want to take even that away from us. At least here in Manhattan. There’s always some kind of fake sheen hanging over us that’s been blurring these yearly changes lately. I have no idea what it is and I have no idea if I’m the only one feeling it. But the distinction is gone. The colors have been drained from all that is good and I guess I’m just going to have to live with it.
There’s still a lot of good out there. Cape Cod in April still had its chilly spring weather, but the water was a blue I had never even seen before. New Hampshire surrounded me with greenery and a serene lake. And I’m sure the mountains of Utah will be a sight I can only imagine right now. So I won’t give up hope that the seasons will find their place again. Or perhaps it is I who should find her place among it. All of it changes around me. With each new leaf that grows, it must fall, only to grow again. We’ll see the sunlight expose the brightest colors once more.