Soon the days will be growing cooler.

Already, they are growing shorter.

This is good news for those who prefer artificial light and sweaters, but for me, autumn months bring the worst of everything.

Is it raining? Well, now you’re wet and cold. Working late? Well, now you drive home in the dark. Running late to work? Well, now you have to scrape a layer of ice off of your windshield. The fact there are even people who enjoy the cold and wet that follow fall and winter is proof positive the lessening of sunlight causes a breakdown in mental health.

Additionally, the fact this season is accented by frequent sights of dead trees erected inside homes and wasted food set out as decoration is just more evidence of mass hysteria. Or did we suddenly forget that trees belong outside and pumpkin soup, pumpkin pie and pumpkin bread are delicious?

No, these are not good times.

Still, I am happy I am farther south.

Until I moved to Picayune, I had been living in an old farmhouse. The house was about 100-years-old, without central heat or air. In the winter, making coffee meant standing in a kitchen that’s temperature was frequently somewhere in the low-40s. It meant trudging through snow to tend to the chickens, and punching a hole through the ice that covered their water dish (chickens are highly cold-tolerant, lest you get the idea I was abusing these birds) and, worse, it meant taking sponge baths as the home’s water pipes would frequently freeze.

I certainly hope Picayune does not turn into an icy wasteland each winter.

Given the presence of palm trees in the area, I can’t imagine it gets all that cold here, although in my mind, anything below 70 is awful.

Personally, I believe clothing ought to be worn for the sole purpose of preserving some semblance of public decency.

I should not have to put on extra clothing to protect myself from the elements. If staying alive means putting on a jacket, then it’s probably time to move.