Hoodie Season
In the winter, I sleep with my hoodie up because it helps me sleep. It blocks out noise and provides a layer of cotton comfort between my ear and the pillow. Sprays of lavender, sleep sounds, cats, and a hoodie. The season is here.
It’s that time of year when it’s still warm, but you know you will blink and it will drop to 52 degrees. Personally, I like 52 degrees a lot. I used to say that my ideal temperature was 55, but I think it’s more like 62 now. Aging and all.
Fall is my favorite season. I don’t even mind calling it autumn. Leaves, breezes, crisp air, long walks, and sweaters. But once the leaves change, they eventually fall, and the trees are left barren, like the depth of my loss.
A hoodie over my ears is like the fetal position to me. When I was younger, I rarely wore the hoodie up because I didn’t want to mess up my hair. Now I am old and prefer my hair messed up from the warm embrace of a hood.
I drink iced tea year-round, but the warmer weather slows my hot tea intake. That season is coming too. I steep a new batch every morning, from Sticky Rice Tea to Ho-ji Cha to classic Ceylon. Every sip is a childhood memory.
My memories of growing up in Brooklyn Heights usually look like Fall in my head. Brown, yellow, and orange hues, before the yellow moved to the snow on the sidewalks, thanks to all of our dogs, for the entire winter. The apartment buildings were the backdrop to nature’s attempt to integrate with the city.
Jackets are coming. The season-long toil with zippers and the right fit between sweater/sweatshirt and overlayer so as not to look too puffy. No one wants to look puffy, not even in a puffy vest. Vests are the antidote to the world’s troubles.
© Jonathan Greene, September 11, 2026
