Oh, sweet breeze of relief!
We have felt its caress in the early morning air this week, our faces turned up like blinking Harfoots traversing the misty mountains of Middle Earth.
The promise of cooler days beckons, heralding the return of a time when venturing outside after 9am is no longer reminiscent of walking into the mouth of a giant asthmatic dog.
The flannel shirts and felted Coachella hats have been pulled from the upper reaches of the closets, ready to vanquish the hellish clouds of biting midges and welcome the season of decorative gourds and pumpkin spice EVERYTHING (society desperately needs to draw the line on this somewhere, and it should’ve been long before deodorant.)
The more enthusiastic among ye have flung yourselves into seasonal decor, clearing out Home Goods of cinnamon brooms and maple leaf-themed throw pillows. Jack o’ lanterns and plastic skeletons already dot the suburban landscape, though I think the house on the corner covered in cobwebs might be experiencing a joro spider infestation.
But lo, neighbors, as much as we deserve a clove-scented beverage and a trophy on the fireplace for surviving another southern summer swelter, it’s not really fall yet, y’all.
Though the Equinox be nigh—this Thursday at 9:03pm EST to be precise—the balance of the earth’s axis means little to the false weather prophet riding in on Merino wool clothing. The ferocious wolf of torridity awaits a swift return, ready to drag us back into its den of dank humidity.
Heark, we must not diminish our sunscreen slatherment or relax our bug spray vigilance, lest we fall prey to the dangers of mosquito-borne diseases, or heaven forbid, the dastardly affliction known as swamp crotch.
Listen, I know where the cicadas scream, and it doesn’t sound like they’re going anywhere soon.
How can I be so sure that this glorious refreshing breath of the gods will not last, you ask?
Like Punxsutawney Phil casting his superstitious shadow, the Menopausal Witch of Midtown has foretold it, the pattern of sweat soaking her worn racerback brassiere indicating at least a few more weeks of sultry suffering.
Just kidding, I asked a meteorologist.
WSAV’s chief weather woman king Kris Allred confirms that temps will teeter into the 90s throughout the rest of the month and possibly beyond, and while anything can happen, “normal” highs don’t tend to go below 80 until after mid-October. Even then, don fall fashion at the risk of your own asphyxiation.
“I don’t know about you, 79 still feels pretty warm to me,” says Kris, who in spite of 21 years of spot-on forecasting makes no promises about atmospheric predictability and recommends preparing for any condition, deadpanning that “we always need a pedicure around here no matter what.”
She notes that climate change continues to force extreme weather around the globe, from floods that have wiped out cities in Pakistan and Kentucky to Hurricane Fiona’s rampage on already-suffering Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic. While hurricane season has been less tempestuous for Savannah thus far, Kris cautiously predicts wetter-than-usual days as the weather heats back up before settling into light jacket-appropriate levels in November.
It’s not just the South; lots of places experience a feverish heat stroke in early autumn. This climatic candy flip used to be called Indian Summer, which, as you might expect, has racist origins. In Europe, it’s known as Old Wives’ Summer, probably because menopausal women have can control the weather with our special uterine powers and are to be feared, obviously.
Of course, there’s a reason we call it “Fall.” Our grand magnolias and mossy oaks may not turn kaleidoscopic colors, but leaves will drop, which unfortunately brings out the worst of weekend warrior weapons: The leafblower.
Environmental artivist Lisa D. Watson enjoins that it is wholly unnecessary to “blow debris around like an intoxicated tornado” when all those dead leaves are valuable as mulch as well as habitat for the important pollinators.
“Caterpillars and solitary bees both use dead plant stock overwinter,” admonishes the native plant advocate and sworn leafblower enemy. “So do many species like Swallowtail butterflies and the Luna moth.”
A reminder that Lisa’s Avant Gardener installation is up at Sulfur Studios until Oct. 22, pack a picnic and enjoy the greenery. Also, the Intoxicated Tornadoes should be the name of Savannah’s next professional sports team.
Anyway, you should get outdoors and enjoy this balmy respite before next week or the entire planet is completely consumed by fire and brimstone, whichever comes first. There’s all kinds of free entertainment this weekend in Forsyth Park for The Savannah Jazz Festival, or if you’re feeling beachy, go dance your dirty heart out with Soap at North Beach Grill on Friday night.
But do yourself a favor and leave the cashmere and corduroy alone a while longer.
‘Cause no matter which way the witch’s tit casts its shadow, it still ain’t sweater weather, babes.
Keep your friends close and your fans closer ~ JLL
Haha! Love your wit! As a native Savahnian, I know not to expect fall weather until November, and to cherish the occasional fall-like day in October.
🫵🏻YOU keep me laughing and NEVER ever disappoint 🤝US🥁🫵🏻👏🏼I always enjoy your slant of reality with that special Jess observation a branded tea☕️