I started out the day at Starbucks, reading a book and drinking strong coffee. Just knowing it was cold outside was enough--it felt like we were actually experiencing a season other than summer! What a novelty!
Outside Costco later in the day, Dori and I saw a small deciduous tree with leaves that were in various stages of turning dark red. When I lived in Portland, the trees would all look like fire at this time of year, and I miss that. I miss [some of] the rain. I miss snowboarding on Mount Hood, watching the billow of my breath disappear, and cold days that were genuinely cold, but not so much so that a brisk walk down a street lined with fire-headed maples was unpleasant.
As you can tell, I am having some fond memories of the climate of my old home, but what is kind of funny is that, come February or March, I will be gloating about the blessed sameness of Fallbrook's 12 months of summer to my friends in Portland, who in turn will be ready to thaw, yet still months away from relief. When it comes, they might value summer more than I, but I value what little measure of fall and winter we are allowed at this time of year more than they might understand.
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