Sometimes it’s the simplest things that invite in the nostalgia for days long gone. Just this morning I was recalling the times of my youth—until just about a decade ago—when during all that time I used to practice the seasonal closet.
I thought this was normal! So silly of me, so childish. I see that now. But, in my defense, it was such a common thing. Everyone in my family did this, and most of my friends, too. Little did I know those were the good ole days, never to be appreciated again. If only I’d known. I definitely would’ve savored those times more, not treating them as just normal life. It is with significant chagrin that I now understand the ephemeral flight of fancy that seasonal world really was.
There was such a pleasant and proper order to it, you know? You’ve got your summer clothes—the shorts and tank tops and swimming suits and sandals—and there’s only so much room in a closet or in a chest of drawers. It made perfect sense that we would pack up our summer things once autumn came to make way for our sweaters and boots and woolens. Those were some good times!
How we used to love to rummage through those boxes again, having been lost for months out of sight, and then just like an impromptu Christmas, you’d find sweaters in there you totally forgot about and it was like having a whole new wardrobe again! Even moving south did not change this quaint habit—summer closet, winter closet—just a smaller shift of degrees and heavier on the summer selections.
Now my summer crocks sit next to winter boots sit next to slippers sit next to flip flops. Oh, the visual chaos! The sweaters are folded awkwardly next to tank tops. Linen being felt up by Fleece. It’s just, wrong. So wrong. The wool socks are in a false embrace with the anklets. Who can even make sense of the accessories?! The scarves, poor things, silk on wool, just imagine their mutual discomfort.
As if the wardrobe malfunctionings are not enough, there’s the critters, domesticated and wild. And the plants. The dogs and goats shed only to shiver the next week. The buds open only to get killed by frost. All season long.
But, progress has it costs, I get it. The future children will adjust to weather whiplash, and be all the stronger for it. That’s so reassuring. The great minds of Bill Gates and David Keith will come together and all will be scientifically managed in perfect harmony. Nature was so terribly cumbersome for the Great Ones. They deserve better. All the children will be so happy when we are watched over eternally by machines of love and grace.