Suddenly It’s Fall

And my mood will be falling along with the leaves.

Carol Burt
4 min readSep 23, 2021


Photo by Bernd Schulz on Unsplash

It is downright cold here tonight. Right on time for fall, we have a cold front rolling through the hometown. It won’t last this time, but it will be here long enough to set me up for what happens to me in the cold months — Seasonal Affective Disorder.

It starts as the days get shorter. Gray and dark are, for me, the colors of depression. As leaves begin to fall off the many trees in our yard, I’m reminded that glorious summer cannot last forever. Our big old house gets cool inside without the air conditioning, and it reminds me I will once again freeze my butt off in this barn come winter.

I’m also reminded that where I want to be in cold weather is in bed, covers pulled over me, trying to hibernate like a bear, and only come out on lovely warm days. In the winter, I wish I was a bear. It’s true. And even if I do not want to spend so much of my time in bed, my depression will paralyze me there, like it does most winters. It saps all my energy and leaves me to think the respite of the dead isn’t so bad.

Not only do I hate to notice fall is here, but I hate all the stuff that goes with it and its uglier sister, winter. I hate Halloween. I do. As far as I’m concerned the scary stuff needs to stay in our imaginations where it does enough damage without parading down the street and through my yard.

I don’t mind Thanksgiving too much if I don’t have to cook — but of course, I will. My family will expect the feast of the turkey. Like we all need a lot of food when we’re overfed all year long while others starve.

Christmas is the holiday I really, truly, honestly hate. It seems like it didn’t always show its pagan origin so much. Now I think it honors the demons of greed. Buy, buy, buy. That’s what Christmas is about.

I spoiled my grandkids and have since had to disappoint them. When they were little, it was easy to make them happy with a bunch of inexpensive toys. Now the ones who live in this country are 13 to 18-years-old. Giving them a bunch of presents means a bunch of expenses. So they don’t get as much at Christmas, and they all seem vaguely disappointed.



Carol Burt

Former print journalist, former mayor, retired law enforcement officer. Writing about politics and government along with random personal essays.