A Fall-ish Day's Ramble

It's going to freeze tonight. Literally. The other day it was eighty degrees. Today, fifty-five.

Down in Southern California, they're still waiting for the Santa Ana winds and the triple-digit September heat. I'm still waiting for my woodstove, and losing patience.

My yellow poplar is turning yellow.

My house is so cold I can hardly type. (I REFUSE to touch that propane-gorging central heat again, ever. $750 for two springtime months. No. Not touching that EVER again. Although Jason will probably turn it on the minute he walks in the door tonight. And by then, I'll probably pretend I don't care and leave it on.)

It smells like Christmas outside. Everyone is burning wood and baking.

I made soup for dinner. Second night in a row, if you count the chicken and dumplings from last night. Must have comfort food.

The cold air and changing leaves gave me a terrible compulsion to play with a new wreath. It's the first one I've ever put on my front door. It has leaves. It's very happy.

The girls wore tee shirts and skirts and hibernated under blankets all day. Jonah wore a jacket with his shorts. Naiah wore the fleecy outfit Mommy forced on her.

It rained on the new firewood. But only a little bit. I've never had to worry about rain on wood before.

Fall has been my favorite season since I was a little kid in Mississippi. But I wasn't ready for this one. It feels like an omen-- "The snow is coming. . . "