The leaves are changing – I thought it was Fall.
We celebrated my dad’s birthday with an epic party at our apartment last weekend, complete with casseroles, Alex’s famous ribs, and tasty libations. I’m pretty sure his birthday is in late October.
I have been at my job for over two months now. It’s been fantastic – I’m learning new things daily, feeling appreciated, and am able to see myself here for quite some time. Didn’t I start in August?
Daylight Savings Time ends in a week and a half. That usually happens in November, right?
I’ve got lots of plans for knitting Christmas presents – by my calculations, they need to be ready in [gasp] less than two months. Oops.
But certainly September and October haven’t come and gone with the wind. Certainly it’s not almost November, with promises of barer trees and cooler air. It can’t be time yet to see frosty clouds with every outdoor breath and to actually use that wool hat I’m almost (finally) finished making. I thought it was Fall, but it can’t be, right?
It’s 85 degrees outside. The heat is teasing me, confusing me even more. Maybe it is still summer, it’s whispering. Maybe those last two months didn’t fly by, leaving no evidence but a date on the calendar page and a slew of unfinished projects. But on Friday, when we’re back to slightly cooler temperatures, I’ll remember. I thought it was Fall, and it is.
Now, though, I’m noticing. And I think I’ll keep it up.