This particular November morning, she stood at the back door with a mug of coffee, watching her breath fog the glass. The calendar said autumn. The thermometer said 23 degrees.
“See?” Lena smiled. “Winter’s early this year.”
Lena had never understood why the calendar argued with the world outside her window.
“The seasons,” Lena said, pointing at the calendar. “They don’t listen to the months.”
“It does,” Lena said. “And the calendar says it’s still autumn. But the wind doesn’t care about December 21st. The wind knows.”
This particular November morning, she stood at the back door with a mug of coffee, watching her breath fog the glass. The calendar said autumn. The thermometer said 23 degrees.
“See?” Lena smiled. “Winter’s early this year.”
Lena had never understood why the calendar argued with the world outside her window.
“The seasons,” Lena said, pointing at the calendar. “They don’t listen to the months.”
“It does,” Lena said. “And the calendar says it’s still autumn. But the wind doesn’t care about December 21st. The wind knows.”