SOUTHERN EXPOSURE: LICENSE PLATES AND LEAVES INDICATORS OF CHANGING SEASONS

I moved to Missouri almost exactly two years ago from Florida. Practically the first thing I was told when I stepped foot in the Midwest was how much I was going to enjoy the change of seasons here.

As if I've never experienced the birth of the spring, the death of the fall or the overall discomfort of the winter. Florida has seasonal changes; they're just more subtle than Missouri's.

Here a vibrant display of changing leaves announces autumn. In Florida the changing color of license plates not only trumpets the end of summer, but also hails the migration of the Snowbirds.

Snowbirds are what Floridians call those well-to-do Northerners who are able to afford a summer home. Just about the time that the first bite of chill wind begins to blow across the vast wastelands of Michigan, New York and Ohio the Snowbirds begin their slow, honking journey to the Sunbelt.

Native Floridians can tell when the migration is to begin. They'll be sitting around in their lawn chairs sipping strawberry daiquiris and watching the pastel kaleidoscope that is a Florida sunset when one of them will suddenly sit up and smell the breeze.

He'll check his drink to see if there aren't too many strawberry seeds and wonder briefly where the bad taste that is lingering on his tongue originated.

He'll lumber uncomfortably out of his chair, which will give up the struggle with a sigh, the criss-crossed straps clinging to his swimming trunks and leaving a checker-board pattern on the back of his sweat-stained t-shirt. He'll pick his way carefully through the pink flamingo lawn ornaments and sprinkler heads to the front porch where the television set is.

A quick check of the Weather Channel will confirm his fear: fall has arrived in the North.

Autumn brings with it sights and sounds that have been absent from the Florida landscape for the summer months. The beaches begin to take on an alien look as extremely white-skinned people wearing Bermuda shorts and black dress shoes begin to appear. The streets will fill with large meandering luxury sedans with signal lights flashing indiscriminately.

A nip comes to the evening breeze of Florida during the fall, allowing most of the natives to drag out their leather jackets and ski boots, parading around the beach pretending they are treading through the snow. Of course, after a few minutes most of them are overheated and have to find a deck bar to grab a quick margarita.

The fall is also when the ocean temperature begins to drop. Then it's only the surfers, who will surf during hurricanes and ice flows, and Northerners, who don't know better, who venture into the ocean.

And winters can get quite cold in Florida. For about six weeks, from January through mid-February, it is almost too cold to wear shorts.

I will say that the heralding of autumn is beautiful in this region. The variety and coordination of colors that erupt from normally ordinary trees at this time of year is staggering. The trees seem aware of how extraordinary they appear as one tree adopts a hue that differs, yet accents, its neighbors.

My appreciation of this seasonal display will probably stay with me if I ever move home. I may have to spray paint the palm trees in our front yard every year about this time just as a reminder.

~David Angier is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.