The sun warmed Tuesday to 20 plus. In the evening a few clouds hung on the Lizards creating a multi-hued red and orange sunset, fading to grey and then dark. Wednesday morning the view out my living room window reminded me of a summer morning in San Francisco. As Mark Twain once noted, “The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco.” Over night, the fog and clouds rolled in and Wednesday never made it back to 20. In fact, the day didn’t seem to reach double digits.
Driving into town the pervasive fog/mist was enough to need the wipers, but not enough to keep the squeak out of the return on the lowest setting. Before the blades passed across again you were squinting, looking through the fine mist collecting so lightly on the windshield.
Clear. Squeak. Clear. Squeak.
And now, Thursday afternoon, 20 plus with high broken clouds.
Huh?
It’s fall. That bi-polar time of year when the whims and whimsy of the weather gods put us on notice that winter lies around the corner and we’d better be ready.
Folks are digging through drawers for socks. Opening the closet and looking for that long lost puffy. And shorts are being reluctantly traded in for long pants.
On a hike a couple of weeks ago, I noticed the low-lying bushes turning red and orange. Now the tree at the end of my street is full-on fall yellow. The berries are finished in my strawberry patch and the apples on the tree in the backyard have a touch of red. The vine maples already turned red along some creeks.
Fall is not around the corner. Fall is here. Right now. No more waiting.
Sure, we’ll have some great days. Some remnant days of summer with the hard edge of a chill. Sunny, but you want a sweater slung over your shoulders. It will be cold as soon as the sun drops.
And we’ll have some ugly, sit in front of the fire and don’t leave the house days. Days when the house across the street resembles a ghost. And walking to the post office is a 5-minute bundle up affair before you even leave the house.
And then the skies will clear. The day will warm to 22. Fall.
All the time, we’ll be waiting, wondering at the true arrival of winter.
