I woke to feel the cool of the air that filled our bedroom from the open window. The temperature — a brisk 46 degrees. The patter of rain on the skylight made me feel all snug in my bed. I found it difficult to roust myself from the warmth of the covers. This particular morning reminded me that fall is coming — maybe sooner than I think.
Making myself a cup of coffee, I sat down to the dining room table, watching the puddles form in the driveway. Glancing out the kitchen window, wisps of cloud like tufts of cotton candy, hung in the valleys between the ridges. The grasses that dried out last month, turning a lifeless brown color, are starting to revive with green once again. The fire ban for the county has been lifted, and the little arrow on the fire danger circle points to the green LOW.
And tonight? As temperatures barely broke 50 today, the house that normally would be warm from the sun’s rays has remained a temperate 64 degrees. As I drive the roads around Nederland, little wafts of smoke are popping up from people’s chimneys — signs of wood stoves being used for the first time since May.
Days like these remind me of what I love about our little log home on the ridge. Days like these provide a sense of comfort and snugness that all is right with the world. I want nothing more than to sip my tea or coffee, grab a blanket, and curl up with a good book.
But as I don my rain jacket to take the dogs out (they don’t care that it’s cold and raining), the world smells fresh and new. For this one day, the dust, dirt and pollen have been washed away, and the flowers and trees drink in this much needed moisture.
Fall is coming….
