It seems a bit late, perhaps by a week or more, but I find this a welcome forecast:

A COLD FRONT WILL MOVE THROUGH NORTH TEXAS TONIGHT. THE COLDEST AIR ASSOCIATED WITH THE FRONT WILL FILTER INTO NORTH TEXAS TUESDAY… AND BY EARLY WEDNESDAY MORNING AIR TEMPERATURES IN THE UPPER 30S WILL OCCUR. HOWEVER…GROUND TEMPERATURES ALONG AND NORTH OF THE INTERSTATE 20 CORRIDOR WILL DROP TO NEAR OR BELOW FREEZING. THIS WILL RESULT IN PATCHY FROST ON ROOFTOPS AND GRASSY SURFACES… ESPECIALLY IN LOW LYING AREAS AND LOCATIONS OUTSIDE OF THE URBAN CORE.

Yes, I live north of the I-20 corridor.  Because I live at the lake, I also tend to enjoy cooler temperatures than the city that crushes in from all sides.

I’m so ready for winter.  I desperately need cold air.  No other season brings me the kind of joy winter does, and no other type of weather thrills me so completely than cold temperatures and wintry precipitation.

I think Henry David Thoreau said it best when he penned this: “It is somewhat cooler and more autumnal. A great many leaves have fallen and the trees begin to look thin. You incline to sit in a sunny and sheltered place. This season, the fall, which we have now entered on, commenced, I may say, as long ago as when the first frost was seen and felt in low ground in August. From that time, even, the year has been gradually winding up its accounts. Cold, methinks, has been the great agent which has checked the growth of plants, condensed their energies, and caused their fruits to ripen, in September especially. Perchance man never ripens within the tropics.”

I feel—or maybe I know—the ripening of life, of my very soul, plays part in why autumn brings me great joy as the predecessor to winter, and why winter, in all its bleak starkness and barren landscapes, offers the rejuvenation I need to keep going, to keep smiling, to walk briskly with life.

No other season brings me such happiness.  Therefore, let winter come.

[Update] At 8:30 great swirls of magenta, hazel, and citrine take shape in fallen leaves dancing about the patio in tornadic fandangos performed to northerly winds and in the dark of early night.  Temperatures fall perceptibly, cool caresses against skin warmed too much by November days.  My step longs to join in Nature’s flamenco-like display.

Let cooler heads prevail, we declare, but what we really mean—what I really mean is let cooler days prevail.  Rid me of this endless, suffering heat, this Texas twaddling on the edge of seasonal change.  Bring me cool, then cold, and finally what winter this state provides.  Quickly, I beg, lest my heart languish in the fallow wastelands of empty promises.