Overheard: I'm one of the cool kids

We are out there. You can't tell just by looking at us, but we are among you. We bite our tongues when you mourn the loss of summer, and we nod in false agreement when you lament the coming winter. We are cool-weather lovers, and this is our time - a little frost on the pumpkin, some color on the trees, and the rest of the population griping about having to wear a sweater to work.

I thought I might be standing behind a kindred spirit the other day when I overheard a woman tell a coffee shop acquaintance, "I refuse to turn the heat on until Nov. 1. My whole family hates me." I was seconds away from offering her the top-secret, members-only handshake of the Secret Order of Autumnal Proponents (SOAP), but I didn't want to reveal myself just yet.

After all, it's possible her edict was borne of fiscal considerations. After BGE charged us all an arm, a leg and a kidney to heat our homes last winter, there are probably a lot of families who weathered the recent spate of cool temperatures by reaching for a thermal blanket rather than the thermostat. Perhaps this woman wasn't a true lover of cool weather after all, just a consumer who would rather put food on the table than crank up the furnace in mid-October. I determined it would probably be best not to reveal myself.

Such is the life of SOAPies. We keep our weather opinions to ourselves out of fear of being ostracized, and only let our guard down occasionally, when we are sure we have come upon a compatriot. Sometimes we can pick each other out of a crowd - there's a spring in our step when there's a chill in the air, and we embrace the cold instead of bracing ourselves against it. It's like in horror movies, when only zombies can recognize the other zombies walking among the general population.

Though most SOAPies will admit there's plenty to like about warm weather, there's something about that first frost that sets our hearts racing. SOAPies agree that a lazy night on the couch with a good book or movie is only enhanced by a fuzzy blanket; that a warm mug of something is the perfect way to begin or end a day; and that nature is the best air-conditioner there is. We find nothing nicer than to crack the window and sleep under a big quilt, and we were wearing our bathrobes backward long before those stupid Snuggies came along.

There are subtle complaints from the people who wish they had a bigger say in the thermostat setting, of course. "Do we have any more blankets?" mine asks while pretending to warm her hands over the stovetop. Sometimes she'll don mittens for dinner or snark about being able to see her breath while getting ready for school. Apparently the love of cool weather is a recessive gene.

Eventually, though, I'll be forced to give in. I'll flip the switch to "Heat" and prepare for a month or two of ramen when the bills come due.I will monitor the 10-day forecast and delight as the highs move lower and those little bits of purple and white move eastward. When a forecasted Nor'easter fizzles and the TV weatherman says, "We dodged a bullet this time," I know my fellow SOAPies will be thinking along with me, "You say that like it's a good thing."

Someday perhaps we'll be able to proudly profess our love for all things fall and wintry. We will rise and demand respect for those lesser seasons, their crunchy leaves and wintry winds. We will snuggle happily beneath our blankets, stock our Crock-Pots with care, and know that we are not alone. That would be cool.

Kathryn Flynn, The Capital's features editor, hates the idea of global warming more than most. You can e-mail her at kflynn@capitalgazette.com.