Frost hit some parts of this area last night, something that the local weather types had been warning of. A warning that got me to move all potted outdoor plants into the garage and throw covers over tomato plants, etc. Just in case. The wee hours brought thick fog, which moderated the cold a bit -- when I peeked out the dining room window this morning around eight, the temperature hovered in the mid- to upper 30's, then began moving nicely upward as fog dissipated, the sun lifting into blue September sky. I pulled covers off plants, did an accelerated version of the morning shower/shave thing, then headed into Montpelier for caffeine, gym, errands.
And during my hours in town, a day originally predicted (by those same weather types) to be chilly turned into a showcase of warm, lovely Septemberness. With a sensation of summer that's mostly been absent since mid-August.
Warnings of colder temperatures and more widespread frost have been issuing from radios all day, and people around here began preparing, resigned. Late afternoon found me out picking tomatoes, accumulating two bowls' worth, all of the fruit with any real color, leaving the green buggers on the vine. As it is, I'm already practically afloat in fresh tomatoes. I may be ready for a vacation by the time I finish plowing through them all.
When I pulled myself out of from under the covers this morning, the temperature in the house was a nippy 63 degrees, cool enough to get me zipping through the wake-up routine with dispatch before fleeing into town. We'll see how it feels tomorrow a.m. I'm hoping the sadists in the local weather biz are lying through their crooked teeth (not that I can point fingers when it comes to crooked teeth) about more intense overnight cold.
It's mid-September. More and more trees are turning, the annual show of color slowly gains steam. Pumpkins have appeared at the local farm stand. The afternoon sun slips down behind the trees earlier and earlier, the hours of darkness slowly increase. The cold season looms, and in a part of the planet where the cold season occupies far too much of the year, that looming sometimes seems like a repeated nudging, nature's quiet, insistent reminder of the major change in lifestyle that lays ahead. In anticipation of that, yesterday morning found me flopping about up in the house crawlspace again, continuing the
It's looking increasingly likely that I'll be returning to Madrid in November. There are preparations to be made, and a step at a time they've begun happening. Two months from now, I should be there, getting reacquainted with a part of the world that felt like home until last autumn.
As I write this, the local world has slipped from dusk to darkness. Time to pull together something resembling an evening meal.
Later.
rws 7:42 PM [+]
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