Why I Hate Fall In The Pacific Northwest

Why I Hate Fall In The Pacific Northwest

Where did the sun go?

Today I woke up with the realization that the transition between summer and fall had officially begun. It was windy, rainy,  and I had to consider putting on a jacket. *heavy sigh*.

I cannot stress enough just how much distaste I have for this dreary and uninviting excuse of a season.


I. Can’t. Even.

Why Fall is the worst

Every fall it’s the same thing. Hoards of my Facebook acquaintances posting status after status about how “fall is life”, how excited they are to eat/drink their favorite pumpkin spice flavored whatever, and how they “have been waiting so long for this ‘sweater’ weather to return.” It’s absolutely despicable.

Nothing about this season is appealing to me. First and most importantly, the sun starts to go away. This means that I’m going to be cold, and i’m going to be cold often. I hate being cold. As far as i’m concerned, being as close to naked at all times is my ideal clothing situation, and doing that during these fall months is near impossible.

Second, outdoor activities are suddenly much less appealing. It’s hard for me to get a big volleyball or Frisbee match going with my mates when there are hurricane grade winds, or torrential downpours happening simultaneously outside. And my single favorite pastime of life (anything that has to do with playing in a large body of water), seems pretty insane when it’s only 50 degrees outside. Starting to see my dilemma?

Fall means going back to school

There’s also the fact that for most people, and myself included, fall means the start up of participating in our educational system again. Which if you aren’t currently in school and you’ve seem to have forgotten what that feels like, it’s no fun. It means that I have to re teach myself how to adult for the next three months and manage a s*** ton of responsibilities again. In contrast of that,  Summer means having mindless and non stop fun anytime I want that i’m not working.

But none of that matters to any of the crazies that purposely inhabit this corner of the country. Their eyes light up whenever they see some leaves start to die and exhibit signs of chlorophyll deterioration (ie “changing colors”). They readily and excitedly throw on as many layers as possible, (however unnecessary to actual temperature regulation) just to feel some strange kind of self imposed comfort. Even the rain, which is such a burden on so many aspects of life, makes even the most seemingly sane north westerner giggle in unadulterated delight.

Kill me now.

I’ve tried reasoning with these people, but every conversation ends in me shaking my head in conjunction with enough face palms to cause literal decapitation. So i’ve stopped trying. At this point I just try and occupy myself with indoor activities and constant visualizations of sunny San Diego beaches.

So please excuse me while I go lock myself in my room underneath a pile of blankets. I’ll be blasting “Summer Nights” on repeat, and having my fake sun running full power 24/7.


Kenneth D.W Marshall

Loves long walks on the beach!
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