The killing frost has done its final lick on the garden and the geese are forming crisp V’s in the sky.
Another summer has come to an end. There are lots of things I will miss about our green season. Like grass. I love the way it looks, I love the way it smells, but mostly I love the way it’s just there under your feet where you don’t even have to think about it. You can’t say the same about snow.
Snow requires careful study and thought. How deep is it? What are my chances of making it all the way to the back shed without getting snow in my boots? What about ice? Should I avoid the hard packed paths in favour of the less slippery, but far deeper snow beside them?
Winter means the end of carefree walks. You know you live in the north when you never get over the summer thrill of running shoes and the freedom of being able to strike off in whatever direction you please.
I am going to miss the 18 hour days of sunshine, robin’s song and the sound of rain on our tin roof.
I am going to miss fresh vegetables, flowers and sitting out on the deck in the cool of the evening.
But most of all I am going to miss garage sales. Ah, the adrenalin pumping thrills of those early Saturday morning treasure hunts!
I made some major scores this year. I got a sturdy wooden shelving unit for only five bucks. Five measly bucks!
The nails alone were worth that much. Two shovels, three heavy duty stainless steel trowels and a rake cost me less than what the taxes would have been on new ones. I even got a set of really nice golf clubs complete with bag and a dozen balls for 25 bucks. Never mind that I rarely golf.
I also picked up two seasons of The Partridge Family for a toonie. What a trip down Memory Avenue that turned out to be! I used to have such a mad crush on David Cassidy — me and about a billion other girls. So now I’ve been watching the Partridge family all dressed up in their matching outfits smiling and singing away and wondering how it is that David aka Keith Partridge can look so incredibly sexy in his dorky frilly white shirt and those unfortunate red velvet pants and vest.
“I can feel your heartbeat and you didn’t even say a word,” Keith croons into the mike and just like that my own heart is tapping like a teenager’s. Oh I can feel it too Keith! I can feel it too!
“How come you got such a dopey look on your face?” Darcy asks, returning from his snack run to the kitchen.
“And hey, what happened to my hockey game?”
How do you explain to your husband of 26 years that you are reliving an old crush you had when you were 12? Only now you’re in your 40s and the object of your lust is still an onscreen teen? You don’t.
“I must have bumped the DVD button,” I say, clicking it back to the Canuck game and feeling a bit creepy.
I was momentarily so far gone I even did a Google on David Cassidy to see if I could find out what happened to him since The Partridge Family left the air. A period of depression, two divorces, a few years of psycho analysis, followed by a 20-year marriage and a son who has musical aspirations of his own. David and his wife raise horses. He still takes to the stage to sing the songs from his glory days, as well as a few new ones.
Just this summer he starred in a new sitcom on ABC called Ruby and the Rockits; unfortunately it was cancelled after 10 episodes.
He turns 60 in the spring. And by the looks of things he’s had a few facelifts and possibly some hair transplants over the years among other things. Who can blame him, but it was still a bit depressing. But that’s enough about David Cassidy.
It’s October, the garage sales are over, the leaves are tumbling to the turf and I’ve watched more than enough Partridge Family episodes.It’s time to step up and embrace the next season.
Even if it gives me frostbite.
Shannon McKinnon is a humour columnist from the Peace River country. You can reach her at firstname.lastname@example.org