I don’t know about your part of this earth, but here, in Colorado, fall and spring tend to be much shorter than the actual season suggests. If I ruled the world, autumn would be somewhere between Sept 15th and about the middle of October. And spring…well,, spring can be even shorter.
So the words, a typical fall day, mean nothing to me. Because in the real world of the Rockies, autumn can be a glorious riot of turning golden leaves and bright sunshine or it could be a horrendous snow storm that racks up a foot of snow and brings the thermometer to a big 25 degrees Fahrenheit.
I think when we describe something, we don’t want to overwhelm people with a lot of words though. Thinking back on the descriptions that brought me right back to the moment I want to remember, they always incorporate more than just what I saw. I can be sitting in Colorado with my head at the Jersey shore with just the memory of the smell of the bay and oddly enough the wood of the telephone poles as the car approached the bridge.
The word Christmas instantly brings a cinnamon scent to mind, along with a pine smell and the bone chilling cold of an icy wind.
I know of people who keep diaries of the weather and the scents and the feelings that occur to them throughout the year just so they can describe them in a book. So if they want to add a telling detail to a summer scene, they can look at their diary calendar and pick out how it felt to sit on that miserably hot concrete on that day they were watching the fourth of July parade.
I’m thinking, it’s not a bad idea.