A friend of mine from the DC area (and a wonderful contributor to this very blog environment) was recently lamenting the slow arrival of the fall season. It seems as if the constant run of near-80 degree temperatures was not quite bringing about that necessary "chill" in the air that one requires when truly recognizing the entrance of the fall season and the future call of the frigid winter months.
But Sir Hawkins does not live in the midwest. We haven't seen a 70 degree day in weeks. And I doubt we'll see but maybe a handful of these days before truly settling in for the frigid months of December through February. The summer clothes are put away. The winter storm windows have been put in place. And we've already gathered around the fireplace to enjoy our first fire of the season.
While I can't yet offer him the brisk whoosh of ghosts he so badly craves, I can send him the eerie glow of autumn, courtesy of a couple of pumpkins. One face eagerly awaits the rush of cold to follow. The other face grimly attempts to accept the end of toasty warm summer nights.
2 comments:
Mid '50s in DC this weekend: THAT'S the stuff of greatness! The kissing bite of BRISK that infuses a light amphetamine kick to the air, that bite that says GO OUT AND PLAY! The clouds hang low enough to grasp in your TEETH, and all the world craves the company of those who revel in such chilly pleasures... what?
The clouds end up in your teeth? Is that a problem in the nation's capital? Our kissing bite of brisk came at us at about 45-50 mph on Saturday. Perhaps a bit more than cloud fluff would have ended up in someone's dentures. But still the most beautiful time of year to don a pair of running shoes and embrace nature's changes while running along the river. Mmmm...
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