It’s barely September and social media pages are already flooded with autumn recipes, pumpkin hacks and tips on how to dress for sweater weather. For Utah, sweater weather in September is just dumb because it’s still 90 degrees in the shade. Wear a cute, fall pullover at your own risk.

Instagram influencers suffer from September insanity, bizarrely excited to roam through corn mazes (nature’s escape room), decorate porches with scratchy hay bales and crooked scarecrows, and stage family photo shoots at apple orchards with everyone grumpily dressed in red and black flannel.

In September, you’re legally required to wear a wool scarf when ordering at Starbucks, where each drink has a dash of cinnamon. Pumpkin spice is everywhere, from pancakes to deodorant, popping up out of nowhere like political yard signs and herpes. 

These aren’t necessarily bad things. I love me a plaid shirt and fresh-baked apple crisp, but until Monday, Sept. 22, at 12:19 p.m. (MDT), it’s still summer and I will behave accordingly. 

Here’s what shouldn’t happen before Sept 22: high school sports, pumpkin patches, hay rides, the NFL. None of those are summer activities. Nada.

Even if the temperature drops to 45 degrees by mid-September (which it won’t), I’ll still wear flip-flops and gym shorts as my casual work outfit. Well, flip-flops only if I’m going somewhere fancy, like Dollar Tree. I might as well not own shoes during the summer.

After going barefoot since April, my feet have reached the hardened leather stage where I could safely walk across a lava flow. My granddaughter recently poked my heel and asked, “What happened to you?” I tried to explain the development of callouses due to traversing 110-degree asphalt with no shoes, but she’d already turned her attention back to Roblox. 

Even Mother Nature betrays me as the Wasatch Mountains start to turn a brilliant red, orange and gold. Sunset gets earlier each night, disappearing a little bit at a time, like when I’m trying to sneak out of a networking event. The air takes on a distinctly “autumn” glow, but that might be arsenic floating over from the Great Salt Lake. Living in Utah is exciting.

Farmers’ markets are still open, but the options quickly turn from juicy, sweet peaches to…umm…squash? Who eats squash? Raccoons? Hardened criminals? I use pumpkin for cookies, bread and carving, but no one actually EATS pumpkin. That’s like saying someone actually eats rhubarb. I don’t have time for your nonsense.

One good thing about September is that Michaels no longer sells Halloween items (which they started promoting in May) but is now decked out for Christmas. 

Believe it or not, I love fall, but only when seasonally appropriate. Summer flies by, so I must savor every sunny moment before Salt Lake sinks into six months of cold, gray darkness, like Persephone descending to the Underworld.

On the first day of autumn (Sept. 22, not Sept. 1), I’ll drape fall garlands around the kitchen, light apple-scented candles, put on cozy socks (an easy transition from being barefoot) and make a big pot of stew that no one will eat because it has onions. 

Within a few weeks, my social media pages will display photos of squirrels gathering nuts, my grandkids bickering at a harvest festival, Tom refusing to eat apple cider donuts and my fire-orange pedicure hidden inside a cute pair of fall boots. But only in appropriate autumnal timing.