Think Halloween, and it’s the crunching of orange leaves
beneath my boots that comes to mind, the crispness of the air and pumpkins,
alight or in pies. Fourth of July – the
sulfur that hangs in the air after fireworks, mingling with the smell of
barbeque, sticky ketchup fingers and grass stains on clothes.
Smells, tastes, feelings – they all have their
season.
It’s a strange way of living, though, when you’re out of
season with everyone else. As an editor
for a magazine with a three-to-six month lead time, I had to become used to “living”
Easter while the rest of the world was still Christmas shopping; planning May
gardening issues, when the rest of the world was planning what to do on
Valentine’s Day. By the time
Thanksgiving rolled around, it was so passé – I was already on to the New Year’s
Day issue, discussing resolutions, interviewing psychologists about “the ten
best ways to change a habit” or some such timely topic, and editing stories
awash with hope of self-improvement.
Mention holiday to me then and instead of turkey and stuffing, I’d say,
yes, I know, Saint Patrick’s is coming up, maybe we could do a “green” issue.
It’s even more pronounced when I’m writing, rather than
editing. Writing a story for me is like
living it in a way. I have to see it,
feel it, breathe it, taste it before it reads well on the page. So this summer, it’s been Christmas in
July. And August.
I’ve been working on a Christmas-themed novella that I’m
very excited about. So not only have I spent summer writing about the winter holidays,
I just had to dig out my favorite Irish sweater, the one I love cuddling up in
when spending an evening in front of the fireplace. Even though the rest of the world outside my
window was going through the worst heat wave in five years, with temperatures
up to 106.7 degrees (41.5 Celsius), in my attic office, I was stranded in a blizzard, with the
wind howling outside. I had to hold in
my own two hands that mug of hot cocoa my character longed for. I had to bake pfeffernusse, my grandmother’s Christmas
cookie recipe.
It’s probably a good thing my children were off for two
weeks visiting their grandparents. They might have been a little confused. If they’d been gone any longer, who knows if
they mightn’t have come home to a tree in the living room!
But now that the book’s done and soon to be released, and
the rest of the world is heading back to school and ready for fall, I think
that instead of racing ahead, I might try, for a change, moving backward in
time and steal a day at the beach. Even
with pfeffernusse in my picnic basket, I
might get lucky and catch a last lingering day of summer.
Milou
Koenings writes romance because, like chocolate, stories with a happy ending bring
more joy into the world and so make it a better place.
Her
sweet romance, Reclaiming Home, A Green Pines Romance, is available at Amazon.
You can find her on her website, www.miloukoenings.com, on Facebook, or Twitter.
You can find her on her website, www.miloukoenings.com, on Facebook, or Twitter.
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I always feel as if Californians are out of sink with the traditional seasons (I suppose those in the southwest probably feel the same way).We don't have the changing of the season like the east coast or northeast.
ReplyDeleteI understand how you feel. I spend most of the year writing Christmas stories. It is rather strange to be writing about weddings in snowy country churches while it's sunny outside. Although this year in the UK the weather has been so bad one wouldn't know it was summer!
ReplyDeletePfeffernusse! My mom used to bake a kind that had to air dry on cookie sheets. I loved how that meant Christmas was coming.
ReplyDelete