by Elena Andreadis
The leaves are changing colors, the air is crisp and students are pulling out the Bean boots. Saturdays are spent at the orchard picking Honey Crisps off the much-too-tall trees, waiting in the much-too-long lines to purchase gallons of fresh apple cider, and eating as many as possible of the much-too-good apple cider donuts. The plaid flannels have come out of the closets, and pumpkin flavored everything lines the shelves of the grocery stores.
It’s that time of the year again—fall. The summer is sadly over, and the long, cold winter awaits. Most of us dread the cold, dreary winter nights ahead, but we all wonder when it will all begin. Growing up in South Texas, I had never experienced a real winter before college. It can’t be worse than last winter I tell myself, as I walk up the hill to class, wearing two sweatshirts layered on top of each other because I can’t quite get myself to pull my winter coat out of the closet. It’s 9 am and the temperature on my iPhone weather app reads “42° F.” The sun hides behind the clouds and the wind rustles the leaves beneath my feet. I know that winter is approaching.
Or is it…? A month passes and still the weather remains relatively warm. Not a week goes by that is colder than the prior. That morning, I wake up not from my alarm, but instead from the overwhelming warm temperature in my bedroom. I turn to check the AC unit to find the heat on low. I quickly jump out of bed and crack the window to let the cool breeze in. There is no breeze. I again check my weather app, and the temperature reads “68° F.” The date is November 3, 2015. I peek out my window in Collins Hall and students fill the Upper Greenspace in tank tops and shorts. I remain baffled, but deep down inside, I am grinning from ear to ear.