Earlier this week, it rained for three days straight- a cold, drenching rain. The kind with the fat raindrops that sound like coins being dropped into a metal bucket. I dug a wool sweater and my Bean Boots out of my closet for the first time since last winter, feeling less than thrilled about the rapid change in weather.
This morning, we woke up to sun and t-shirt temperatures. I went for a sweaty run and stood knee-deep in the pond for awhile afterwards, enjoying the sun and sipping some retro bottled seltzer that I discovered at the store the other day. It felt like summer again.
The summer-fall juncture used to send me into a fit of tears as a child. Summer was always the epitome of everything good for me, and I was sad to see it go every year. But as I've gotten older, I've come to realize that there is something special about this time of year, this brief stretch of time caught between the 2 seasons. When it's chilly enough to warrant lighting a fire in the fireplace and pulling a blanket over your legs, but still mild enough to leave the windows cracked open at night. When the summer boaters have cleared off the pond and weekends are quiet again, save for the occasional fisherman or last-hurrah water-skiers. When the light through my camera lens still has that warm-weather haze, but is beginning to sharpen up again around the edges. When pesto and tomato season overlaps with lentil stew season.
As Martha Stewart used to say in a highly mockable tone of voice, it's a good thing.
ah, you've captured the spirit of the season (or changing seasons) so well. i struggle with dressing myself in this weather, as it cools down so much at night that i'm never prepared. but the cool late summer/ early fall breeze has its place, yes? or should i say, it's a good thing? :)
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