Southern summers are Scarlett O’Hara. Warm weather flounces in without warning in March, and the pear trees burst into puffy white blossoms overnight. Within a week or two, the azaleas and dogwoods follow, filling yards with lush colors. Spring is a lot like Scarlett at the picnic – splashy, overdone and looking to be the center of attention.
Summer storms are as strong and gritty (and sweaty!) as Scarlett rebuilding Tara.
And when summer has to go? Well, fall is a narrow-eyed, angry Scarlett. “You’re done with me? Well, guess what? I’m done with you first!” Unlike my native New England, where the leaves take their time changing colors, building to a glorious peak of color in October; in coastal North Carolina, fall is a temper tantrum of Scarlett proportions. Trees go from green to brown quickly here. And don’t blink, because just as quickly, those same leaves curl up and die, flinging themselves to the ground in one last act of defiance and leaving barren trees behind.
And we’re left to wonder when spring will sweep into town again…..