I woke up this morning and suddenly – it was fall.
That rainy Seattle haze is back, and I’m actually starting to get excited about it. The morning is still dark and a little dreary, and there’s an implied temperature drop (“implied” just because it hasn’t happened yet – it’s supposed to be in the 70s again tomorrow).
This is the Seattle that I remember signing up for: the mostly gray, constantly wet city, filled with the sounds of tires hitting soaked pavement and puddles being splashed through. Where you shouldn’t go anywhere without your raincoat and a couple more layers than you think you’ll need.
I remember being excited about the fall last year. I couldn’t wait to drink pumpkin spice lattes and make apple crisp every other weekend. But while summer this year has been gorgeous, it hasn’t felt like summer to me. My California self is demanding a summer with heat that’s too hot to bear, that radiates through your shoes when you stand on the pavement for too long and requires that you spend your days indoors. That doesn’t happen here, and in a small and kind of twisted way, it makes me sad.
So I feel hopeful with this glint of excitement for fall. I was starting to feel a loathing for a dark and cold winter, but now I’ve got a tingle of joy that it’ll be nice after all.