Hell of a Guy



I took a long walk yesterday. 

The Nancy and I have spent the last three days at the Glades Springs resort in Daniels, WV.  She is here to attend a conference and I am here as her chauffer, to make sure her clothes are properly pressed and wrinkle free, to be her alarm clock and along with other sundry duties, like having her tea available when she arises and bringing her breakfast to her.  Once she is off to her meetings, the day becomes whatever I choose it to be.  Hence the long walk.

Glade Springs at this time of the year offers up some of the most spectacular autumn colors – the foliage is ablaze with reds and oranges and yellows, and I really don’t like it.  Autumn is not my favorite time of the year.

As I began my hour trek around the tree-lined streets of the resort I was bathed in a shower falling leaves.  This place is littered with big oak trees, towering poplars and majestic maples, all shedding their summer dress like attendees at a nudist camp.  I was swatting leaves left and right like gnats on a hot summer day and I was a little sad.

I am a spring guy.  Spring brings new life, rebirth and longer days.  On the other hand, there is autumn; 90 days of dying flora, hibernation and very long nights.  Sun almost begins to set shortly after it rises.  Autumn brings cooler,unpredictable, inconsistent weather – cool to cold one day, very warm to damn near hot the next.  And what is it with this Indian Spring crap anyway?

It is about this time each year I begin to countdown the days to the winter solstice.  You know, that horrible day in December with less than 10 hours of daylight and more than 14 hours of darkness.  This is the time I begin to yearn for springtime; I yearn for the aroma of freshly mown grass, the brilliant green of young leaves, warming weather, and oh how I look to the time when I can to sit in one of the rockers on my front porch with a beer in hand and the sounds of spring striking my cute little ears (another story). 

Spring is my time of the year.  Spring is renewal, rebirth, fresh and it just gets my inner child (some might say my immaturity juices begin to flow) motivated to get things done.  Spring is the time I get to plan the garden that will probably die off before the harvest because I do not have a clue as to how to keep it alive.  Spring is the time I list my outdoor projects so I can procrastinate them off to the fall when it gets too chilly to be outdoors to do them.  Spring is the time when I can bring out the zero-turn mower and get it stuck in a myriad of places and situations.  Spring means not having to wear much clothing or anything at all if I wish – not that I have done that more than a hundred times or so (we don’t have neighbors).  Spring is the time to drag out the grill that I seldom use.  I long for spring.

All of this I pondered as I walked the streets of Glade Springs and listened to Josh Groban on my iPod.  It was 66 degrees with a slight breeze.  The leaves were tumbling down, wafting slowly to and fro on their way to the ground where for a while they create a beautiful mosaic until swept away by some pissed off home owner with rake in hand cussing the day he ever bought a place with so many trees. 

As I peregrinated my chosen route listening to some beautiful music and thinking, which always gets me in trouble, I couldn’t help but contemplate what a lucky dude I am and how even though fall is not my most favorite time of the year, this day was indeed The Best Day Ever.

And that is all I have to say about that…

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