Seasons Change.

Autumn arrives, all at once and in full—I've been in long sleeves since Friday, did actual work in the actual outside in those same long sleeves today—we were so hot for so long I didn't quite believe it would ever come, and surely didn't believe it would arrive like this, seemingly to stay. Maybe we saw seventy today. Maybe we'll see it tomorrow. We're dropping hard through the sixties and fifties right now, are trying for the forties both of the next two nights and most of the next ten, say the fancies. I don't recall the season ever shifting here exactly like this, so all-at-once like this. I love it. I'll take it. There was a bagpiper down in the park on Friday morning. It rained like all hell Wednesday night. We put the end of the subfloor in the shed on Saturday afternoon. These are the things that have happened. That, and the weather changed. Maybe for good. We can only hope.

Trash piled by the curb. Ice in the glass. Coffee made for the morning. Chicken chili for dinner. Happy dog, quiet cats, sleeping Toad. Braves, impossibly, in the playoffs. Football season. The outside edging possibility of woodstove season. Chance of rain. Chance of all else.