The temperature here finally dropped enough to feel like the season has changed. It's been mid-seventies up til a few days ago. Until today the California fall feels more like and Oregon summer. We woke up to an overcast sky, very strange not to see the sun filtering through the trees on the horizon. I worked outside trimming some trees and stringing up a rope swing until lunch time when we took the kids to the $1.50 movies.
When we emerge from the theater the rains had come and fall was here.
The cool temperature, the moisture in the air and the fragrance of the neighbor chimneys made us all miss home today.
I’ve never been away from Oregon, or Springfield for that matter, for this long ever.
Everyone has their favorite season, but for me I truly love the changing of the seasons.
Each new transition holds anticipation for the coming holidays, hunting trips, camping trips, yard projects, bundled next to the fire with your favorite hot drink... you get the idea.
The changes are marked with the signposts of budded sticks, bright-green leaves, vibrant color displays and piles of debris piled into to compost for the season ahead.
Life, growth and death come naturally and sometimes expectedly amidst these changing seasons.
The perpetual summer weather up to November would spoil any Oregonian as it has us.
Our family has experienced so much life and growth in our short season here, but the familiar feel of the cold, wet weather makes us miss home in a way we haven’t experienced until now.