27

It took me a while to to figure out what I wanted to write about. The possibilities were endless! I could write about the times my family and I spent sitting at Gibson beach watching the tide recede for hours on end, or the countless times I walked around the town in Sag Harbor- stopping in all of the stores… Or even the time I’ve spent at the Hampton Classic watching all the amazing, powerful horses fly by. I settled on something that I felt makes the Hamptons truly spectacular and special to me; the seasons. Yes, the seasons play a role throughout all places around the world, but that doesn’t decrease the worth or beauty of them in the Hamptons. During each season I decided to write what I felt, saw, smelled, and heard. The seasons are always present, which can make us oblivious to them, so I wanted them to be acknowledged.
Here I am, curled up with my computer, a cup of freshly brewed coffee from a quaint bakery in Sag Harbor, and a cat trying to find ways to personify the seasons. I find nature itself beautiful, and therefore it should not be compared to humans and given labels with emotion and feeling, but I cannot help but label each season with emotion and characteristics. Winter is shy and humble, but bottles up feelings until all of a sudden they all come pouring out-the way a snowstorm hits unexpectedly. Spring is friendly and social but very fragile- similarly to the new flowers blooming. Summer is striking, confident, and loved by everyone- the way the golden sun makes everything look untouchably beautiful. Fall is solemn and lonely- just like the wilted flowers and falling leaves. But this is all only my opinion. I find it beautiful how people see the seasons in different ways, attaching their own emotions and stories to them. It gives us a sense of security knowing that we are part of nature, and that we can relate to things other than ourselves. Maybe you’re summer; striking and confident. Or maybe you’re fall; solemn and lonely. Seasons help us find ourselves… Or maybe this is a farfetched idea or just another overused cliche; but that is up to you.

Winter Along 27
Your arms are wrapped around yourself; each fingertip feeling icy against your warm skin. The clouds consume the sky, leaving a blanket of fog beneath it. The windows are frosted over along the edges, creating a frame for the world outside. Holiday songs are playing, you listen as the radio announcer attempts to grasp your attention as your mind strays from the icy road, “and you’re listening to 101.7…” Your eyes struggle to see silhouettes of trees through the heavy fog. You crack the window open just enough to let the smell of a freshly lit fireplace warm the harsh sting of your dry nose. The town is illuminated by an endless supply of lights, intertwined within the snow-capped trees, slowly swaying in the wind. You watch as people greet each other; their warm smiles defying the brisk air. Their arms are wrapped around each other, creating a knot of limbs. You watch the small shops along the road slowly close; watching each light go off one by one.

Spring Along 27
Your hand rests on the half-opened window; feeling the warm sun compete with the cool breeze on your palm. The sky is a light shade of blue; not a cloud to be seen. The countdown ‘till summer has finally begun. You flip through the radio stations; each containing a new song that is ‘destined’ to be the summer anthem. You breathe in the fresh, chilled air. The smell of freshly mowed lawns fills your nose for a split second. You look down the road which seems to be consumed cherry blossoms. Above you is the ceiling of pink trees which allow the blue sky to shine in between their full branches. In front of you is a carpet of pink petals, falling ever so gently. You drive past vacant fields, now clothed with the grass that hums with energy and vibrance.

Summer Along 27
Your arms hang freely out the window; each finger catching the breeze for a second before it escapes your grasp. The sun is setting along 27. The countryside is bathed in the brilliant summer sunlight. You are immersed in this golden light, fascinated by the way everything turns strikingly illuminated. Music is blasting; your favorite song, of course. You reach to turn the dial up until there is no competition between the wind and the song. You look to your left and see rows of beautiful, pristine houses. Some of them kissed with age, others just beginning. Your nose tingles when it smells the freshly mowed lawns, the barbecues outside, the flowers caught in the breeze. Warm air wraps itself around you; making you feel secure. The sun hugs the clouds as they rest on the horizon, each ray of light flooding the road. August nights stick to your skin as you’re surrounded by a lilac colored sky; a color of nostalgia.

Fall Along 27
You squeeze your hands together tightly under your big cashmere sweater. A damp mist settles on the road but you still manage to see the remnants of summer wilt. The trees rapidly shed their rotting leaves; no wonder they call it fall. An eery song plays through the car, making you feel like the newest victim in a horror movie… Don’t worry, fall along 27 isn’t all that scary. The pumpkins sit scattered in bare fields waiting to be brought home and carved, the smell of fresh apple cider lingers as you sit at a red light, houses are lined with spooky decorations… Everything seems to be different shades of orange. You watch families sit on their porches; kids playing in the massive piles of vibrant leaves, as parents sit on the sidelines supplying apple cider, donuts, and other delicious treats. The mist wraps around your car, making you feel a sense of fear and comfort. One thing was definite, Autumn killed summer with the softest kiss.