The long, slow climb

Yesterday was the first day of fall, and I, for one, couldn't be happier to live in a place where the weather is decent enough to acknowledge that. While it was 94 degrees in Raleigh, with 87 percent humidity, it was 75 degrees in Portland, with 60 percent humidity. Delightful.

Last week, a chill wind blew in and lifted my spirits. There's nothing better than the first intimation that autumn is on it's way. I pulled on a pair of jeans for the first time in months and pulled my favorite wool sweater out of the closet. I don't think I wore wool once in all the years I was living in North Carolina. The temperature here drops down to 48 or 49 degrees at night, and it's a long, slow climb the mercury makes as the sun pulls it into the 70s by mid afternoon.

Dee-lightful.

It could be that trip to the accupuncturist that snapped me out of my recent summer funk, but I think it was the weather. And now AR seems to be slipping into the hole I just vacated. Alas. I'd say our timing is awful, but I think it's just right. We've always had the decency to take turns falling apart, which means there's always someone around to pick up the pieces.