Daylight Saving Time is coming up. But with each passing day, the temperature drops and it gets dark a little earlier. The name “Daylight Saving Time” makes it sound like we are accumulating daylight in a special savings account. If we are conscientious and don’t spend it, someday we can retire with sunshine 24 hours a day. So why does it feel like our daylight savings are running out?

During the summer, I am fully adjusted to the sun staying up until 9 p.m. Now in the fall, if I want to walk across my kitchen at 9 p.m., it’s so dark, I have to navigate to the light switch by echo-location like a bat. E-e-e! E-e-e! E-e-e-e-e! Ow! (Who moved that table?) In July, I might go outside to get the mail and realize I’m not wearing shoes. Who needs them? But now, I am rummaging through boxes, labeled “Winter Clothes” for scarfs and wool socks.

“Fall back” means, we not only have to reset our clocks but fall back in our expectations of comfort and safety. Sure, it starts off gradually. You have to mow the lawn at 7 p.m. because it gets dark by 8 p.m.. Okay, fine. Then, maybe you switch the climate control in your car from air conditioning to heat. Just for a minute because it’s still technically late summer. And summer means you don’t need the heater. With DST, your car’s clock needs to fall back, too. But your 2008 Mazda’s clock doesn’t change automatically and how are you supposed to remember how to do it when you only set it twice a year? It’s easier to leave it as it is and just remember it’s actually an hour earlier than it says. The same with the microwave. In the winter, I’m always showing up early to appointments. I just shrug and explain, “I’m on microwave time.”

Adjusting to the fall is a process. Like growing older. It starts with a few wrinkles around the eyes. You say, okay, I can live with that. Then, one day you catch your reflection in the mirror and gasp. Who is that old guy and why is he wearing my clothes? I used to be on the high school track team. Now, running is strictly for emergencies. Experiencing fall is living in denial. I am willing to wear a sweater outside, but I refuse to wear a coat because that’s for winter and maybe we will skip winter this year and just go right back to summer. Global warming. It could happen.

Or maybe Daylight Saving Time is the price we pay to have spring and summer. Like stuffing spare change into a fruit jar until it fills up and we have enough to buy something nice with it. Like warm lazy afternoons, listening to the drone of cicadas. And tulips and tomatoes and sitting on the back porch drinking tea at 8:00 pm. Then winter isn’t a price we pay. It’s an investment.