Fall Guy

I would love fall---or autumn, if you prefer---much more if I was more tolerant of what comes behind it: Old Man Winter.

I adore a crisp fall morning, afternoon and evening. I get to enjoy them all because our Jack Russell Terrier demands exercise in the form of several walks per day, so I don't have much of a choice. But it's all good.

So I like the smell of someone burning something or another in the distance. I like the colors, of course. On Saturday afternoons, I like knowing that, all over the country, college football games are being played, whether that college has 1,000 students or 50,000.

But as I get older I find myself more and more resentful of the Old Man every year from December thru March.

I just don't have the patience anymore for the snow and the ice and the hazards they both bring---and I'm including dog walking in there, in addition to driving.

Don't tell me that you're safer walking on the sidewalks in winter time than you are sliding around on the roads.

You ever hear of black ice?


Old Man Winter hasn't been my favorite guy lately


The sidewalks are full of it, lying sneakily beneath the thin layer of powdery snow. And it's as dangerous as anything you'll encounter on the roads---especially when your ability to keep your balance is compromised by having one hand occupied with a leash.

I have almost fallen innumerable times---which scares me to death every time it happens---and have actually fallen way more than once.

Neither is pleasant, though the actual falling is worse. That's because your first thought isn't if you're OK---but rather if anyone saw you.

We are all like that, I'd lay odds. Seems it's human nature to be far more concerned if someone saw us tumble than if we are physically OK. The ego is bruised easier than our bodies.

And let me tell you---I've taken some nasty falls in the past several winters, walking Scamp, who gets the bejeebers scared out of him every time I fall and nearly fall. The involuntary tug and yank on his leash as I try to keep upright is what startles the poor little guy.

Then there's the shoveling. My snow blower went kaput several years ago and I've neglected to get it fixed---shame on me. The result is clearing snow the old fashioned---and more physically-demanding---way.

I would appreciate the romance of winter more if I didn't have to interact with it beyond looking at it.

Hey, keep me inside, away from winter's elements, and I'm good to go. I'll romance the heck out of it in the coziness of indoors.

If fall could extend all the way to spring, with no stop for winter in between, then I'd be ecstatic.

And less bruised.