When I declared it fall last Friday (the air had cooled and pumpkin spice was already announcing itself in shop windows), the 12 year-old resisted. “No. It’s still summer. Fall doesn’t start until October.” Never one to pass on a gag, I intensified my autumn declarations over the next several days, to her increasing irritation and intransigence.
This morning over breakfast I shared with her the strange news of September snow in Colorado. “No,” she demanded. “It’s fall, not winter.”