When September 1st greeted us with torrents of rain pounding down outside the house, followed by a measure of hail, and cloudy, dark weather, you could say that maybe it wasn't exactly the way to spend a Labor Day. The lights in the house were still on at lunchtime. The temperature dropped 30 degrees over that weekend, and so when the clouds unexpectedly floated away that afternoon we were left with an utterly delicious blue sky, and delightfully crisp air; being outside was like taking a big bite from an apple just plucked from the tree. It was lovely.
So comes Fall with all of it's own rituals; the back to school shopping, the sudden ordered schedules that slide us into place, the weekend routine of yelling at incompetent (Pac-10, ahem) football referees. I am always happy when Fall makes its debut right at the start, foregoing the eternal August and those dog days of endless heat one must sometimes slog through. I am not a child of the summer. In my world, September is the first month of the year.
So then, happy new year.