The past few days have been beautiful. Cool, crisp mornings with the windows open, pleasant afternoons with the windows still open.... I'm beginning to feel quite spoiled. This weekend will mark a return to 80-degree temps for us, and I must say, I don't want it to come. I've changed the background of my blog to fall already because I have already felt that it is here. I don't want to anticipate that summer will make a resurgence before it's pushed out the door by autumn by the late portion of this next month.
Every season, there comes a point where I get a small whiff, a breath, a barely perceptible change in atmosphere the bodes the coming of the next season. It's hard to explain, but I can do no more than say every now and then I get a brief whiff of air that has an indefinable quality of "other" from the air I am used to walking around in. And I think, "Ah, there it is. The next season is coming." A few week's ago, I thought maybe I'd had autumn's. It wasn't a particularly hot day, but it was unbearably muggy, and for a brief second, I smelled a chill briskness in the air, and then it was gone. I hope it forebodes the coming of an early fall, though I don't think I would necessarily relish my husband's prediction of snow in September!
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