An Unkind turning

It was an unkind turning from Summer to Fall. It came quite suddenly, cooling and diluting the thick ripe air of summer sweetness all too soon. Leaving the residence of the city feeling robbed of some much-needed leisure. The events of the past year: the market crash, unemployment, hunger, and an overall feeling of melancholy, left many with a sense of entitlement for an “Indian summer” and an abundant Fall harvest. They longed for healthy crops, worthy of growing fat on to sustain them through what was predicted to be another hard winter. It was not to be, and so they grumbled about town, feeling betrayed by God, Mother Nature, and the powers that be. They began using words like “cursed” and “hexed”, faithless words as evidence of their diminishing hope.
The cold had blushed the maples overnight, it seemed. Streets lined with trees once lush and green, now shades of orange and red seemed a warning of winters coming cruelty. The leaves of the squash, tomatoes, and sunflowers had crisped and withered prematurely from the cool brisk wind. Farmers were forced to harvest early to avoid frost damage. As a result, crop yields were only a shadow of what they should have been and market prices were high to compensate for the loss. Food cost were too high for most to afford, and more went hungry, so less food was sold and farms were lost because profits were low; and so the spiral continued on as it does in time like those. Loss perpetuating loss.
Because the cold had come early that year, there was still much left undone to prepare for the approaching cold weather. Warm clothes to mend, Food to preserve and store and wood to chop. They bustled from block to block. All were trying to make something out of nothing, wasting away still tan from summer sun and dusty from hard field work. They dressed in clothes two years old, which now hung on their lean, angular frames. In preparation to combat winter, they were an army of tattered soldiers fresh from the battle and straight off to another without pause