Too early for soup? Maybe, but I did it anyway

It’s fall — according to the calendar, anyway. So I made soup.

Sure, it was 102 degrees outside, and I was sweating even though the air-conditioning was on. The heat coming off the stove wasn’t helping.

But I sautéed onions, added red potatoes cut into 1-inch pieces and corn cut off the cob. I know fall is close. There are signs. Candy corn for sale at Walgreens. My cousin Kasey posting on Facebook what time we’ll eat on Thanksgiving.

Christmas decorations at Costco. The water coming out of the kitchen faucet tepid instead of hot.

I added 2 1⁄2 cups to a pot on the stove and then half a cup of white wine and a bouillon cube.

My friend Karen texting to see if my Christmas Eve gathering is on. (It is.)

My son Sawyer leaving for school in long-sleeved shirts, though with the sleeves rolled up.

Forgetting to put up the sun shade in my windshield.

My girlfriends planning a wine party on the patio. Well, three weeks from now, but we’re thinking about it.

My yard guy asking if I want a winter lawn.

Me deflating the blow-up pool raft in the shape of a mermaid tail.

I don’t eat hardly anything hot in the summer. I even ice my coffee. But suddenly, soup sounded good.

I called out that the soup was done. Sawyer didn’t want any. It was too hot. He’d changed out of his long-sleeved shirt.

His friend Fallon said she’d have some later, and she did. But only after it had cooled off, and she didn’t heat it up. (I think she was just being polite.)

I sweated over my bowl. Maybe it is too soon for soup. But soon, fall. Soon.