This Estivation Must Stop

Sounds like one of my made-up words, estivation. If it were, it would probably mean a rough guess as to how high a mountain or a college roommate is. As it is, estivate is an actual word, meaning "to pass the summer in a state of torpor," basically the opposite of hibernate (in my version of Scrabble, estivate would warrant about a million points because not only is it a beautiful word, but its definition contains an equally amazing word, torpor). Now if someone gave me the definition and told me to make up a word, I'd probably go with slummer, or dozummer. Better yet, I'd probably just say, high school English teacher, because having the experience, and not knowing much zoology, I'd put my money on the high school English teacher being the only creature who estivates.

I realize summer ended and autumn began a few days ago, chronologically, at least, but the weather's been nice, and although fall is my favorite time of year, I wasn't ready to bid adieu to summer yet. But this morning it definitely felt like fall: gray, rainy skies, trees blowing aggressively, leaves starting to change color (at least to my color-blind eyes), and a temperature that had no hint of summer in it. So I muttered to myself, that's it, quit the estivating, get to work. I've been cleaning ever since. To be honest, it's probably my spring cleaning, but as I recall, the first day that felt like spring several months ago, I said, that's it, summer's coming, commence estivation.

All I can say is that I've been places in my domicile today that Columbus, Balboa, and even Carl Kolchak couldn't have found. Apparently, dust doesn't estivate, hibernate, or vacate. Procreate, though, for sure.

Unfortunately, my bed right now is too piled up with stuff I've moved to get to such dusty, unmapped places, that starting to autumnate with a nice rain-soothing afternoon nap is out of the question. But I guess it's football season: three piles and a cloud of dust. Back to excavation.

Freakwater-When The Leaves Begin To Fall

Robyn Hitchcock-Autumn Is Your Last Chance