The Fall Coming-Out Party

Memphis is getting ready for its fall coming-out party.

After weeks of near-100-degree days, the weather people say the heat dome sitting over us may finally lift. There’s even a chance of rain, with temperatures falling into the 80s almost exactly as the fall equinox arrives.

We don’t move neatly from summer into fall. We get a taste of fall, then summer comes back for something it forgot.

Right now, we’re hiding from the sun. The neighborhood walkers are still out there, but we’ve rearranged our schedules around the heat. We walk early in the morning and again before dark. If we get caught out during the day, we chase the shade, crossing streets and changing routes for whatever relief the trees will give us.

But if the forecast holds, next week we can come out of our frozen food lockers again. The walkers will return to normal hours. Dogs will discover that walks can last longer than seven minutes. Neighbors who haven’t seen each other since June will stop and talk in the street. Patios will become habitable again. Fall color will make its way into the garden.

I’m ready for all of it, starting with my closet.

This morning J. Jill, my favorite clothing store, emailed me with the subject line, “Fall sweaters for not-quite-sweater weather.”

Well, at least they’re honest.

I have five pairs of khaki shorts that I rotate with an assortment of white Lands’ End T-shirts. At this point, I don’t get dressed in the morning. I put on my uniform.

Khaki. White. Sneakers. Repeat.

I am longing for leggings and a sweatshirt. Not a cute fall outfit with boots and a scarf. I want sleeves. I want fabric that reaches my ankles. I want to cover up, and I want to stop shaving my legs.

Watching the Ole Miss game this week, I saw young women in cute dresses pouring sweat. There was a time when I might have suffered for the outfit. That time has passed.

I watched in pajamas.

I’m just as ready to change what I’m looking at outside. Memphis looks fried, even with all the watering. My red, white, and blue annuals were wonderful for summer. They’re still alive, which almost annoys me, but I’m tired of looking at them. I want rust, gold, and burgundy.

At work this weekend, people were buying pansies and mums, and I found myself asking where they planned to put them. Sending fall flowers out into this heat made me worry about their survival. I’m not ready to kill an innocent pansy.

The same goes for my fall wreaths. They’re not going on the doors while there’s still a chance they could confuse my neighbors. I don’t want people to wonder if they’re fall wreaths or summer flowers that fried on the gate.

My appetite has already moved on, which is unfortunate because fall food is more fattening. Summer gives us tomatoes, peaches, and grilled chicken. Then football season arrives, and suddenly we’re eating chili, cornbread, casseroles, and tailgate food, where an alarming number of recipes begin with a block of cream cheese.

I’ll make strawberry jam. I’ll turn on the oven again. I’ll probably gain a few pounds and blame the weather.

I will not, however, buy anything pumpkin spice.

I realize this may be a minority view. People take pumpkin spice seriously and admitting you don’t like it feels vaguely un-American. When I played dominoes with friends last week, they talked me into trying the Trader Joe’s pumpkin kringle.

One bite.

It wasn’t bad.

This changes nothing.

So, Memphis can have its fall coming-out party. I’ll pull out the annuals, bring home the mums, and put the wreaths on the doors. I’ll finally put away those khaki shorts and the razor.

J.Jill can keep their sweaters for right now. I’ll be in my leggings, legs unshaved.