I’ve taken a long blogging break, necessitated by being sick off and on for a few months and running out of topics that interest me. What I’ve been thinking about lately is hibernation.  I like my on-line dictionary’s synonyms for hibernate:  “hole up, withdraw, retreat, cocoon.” Perfect descriptors for how I’ve felt.

It seems like I’ve been more aware of the change of season this year than any other: the quick drop in temperature between September and October; darkness earlier and later; having to remember to add an extra vest or jacket before going outside; the roar of leaf blowers when I’m out for a walk; the shocking reds, oranges and yellows all around me; and crispness in the air when I step outside for the morning paper.

My cat is my role model for this season. After lazing on the patio under the sun for four months, and despite a thickening coat of hair, he now prefers to spend his days under the bed covers. On early, dark mornings, that’s my preference too.

I’ve made my first pot of lentil soup and my first stew. I have a new bread recipe I want to try. I bought tickets to see four plays in October. All these are automatic reactions, ones I don’t have to think about, but are built into my seasonal system like sleeping under the covers is built into my cat’s.

I’m in the process of ordering a ton of books from the library and amazon. My social calendar is slightly emptier than it was in July. I’m ready to withdraw, to spend more time alone.

If I lived in a different climate, one in which it never got cold, would I feel the same?  Probably not. The weather really does exercise control over much of our lives. I’m just glad our climate is mild and we don’t get snowed in. That might call for a whole new set of seasonal behaviors.