Random Thursday: It's Falling

[hrj]

Here in the Bay Area, there's a certain feel in the air when fall has come--an assortment of possible feels, truth to tell. The one we all dread is when the wind turns hot and strong, the leaves dry up and turn to dust in the air, blinding the eyes, and every breath is evaluated for the taste of smoke. October is Fire Season, when the particulates in the air turn the sunset into a Maxfield Parrish painting.

But this year fall came with a different feeling. Between one day and the next, the air tasted...colder, damper, darker. And then, with almost no warning, an energetic downpour passed through. Not a large-system storm that wets everything across the eleven counties, but the sort where I could bicycle to Walnut Creek and back and not realize it had rained until I came back to wet pavements in Concord. At least twice since then I've woken up to clear skies and puddles on the patio. The air is thick with thoughts of, "Please, let it be a wet winter."

In the space of a week, I went from sleeping with the window open and the ceiling fan running to swapping out the summer duvet (that mostly lay scrunched at the foot of the bed) for the winter one.

The tomatoes are shutting down their flowers and I'm reviewing recipes for green tomato relish in case we don't get enough hot days for the remaining fruit to ripen. On the days when it's still warm enough to sit out in the garden, birdsong has given way to the rasping of squirrels cracking nuts and the explosive crunch of the black walnet shells from the alley behind my yard as cars pass through.

Dusk has drawn back far enough that we put the running lights on the dragonboats before taking them out, but not yet far enough that the bay has calmed and we can paddle out past the breakwater to practice with the fairy-lights of The City in view. The next month's practices will be marked by watching sunset creep slowly south from the Marin headlands until it's framed between the towers of the Golden Gate. If the fog allows, we time the practice route to include a pause to watch the sun sink into the sea. Some people say they've seen the Green Flash, but I never have.

What signs mark the turning of your season?

Comments

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[katerit.livejournal.com]

It is the change in weather and the crisper air. Of course, this year it has been the heat and fire, since I live just north of one fire and drove past the Lomas fire daily last week. This week there's a decided change - and I'm noticing the shorter days.

[hrj.livejournal.com]

It's weird how a storm this time of year is both "yay, damp vegetation" and "boo, lightning strikes".

[lifeofglamour.livejournal.com]

The cast of sunlight, a little lower in the sky I guess? The falling leaves, shorter days, and the crispness in the air. I love it.

[hrj.livejournal.com]

I think that's what really hit me this year: noticing the change in the light.

[joycebre.livejournal.com]

One of the things I like about my townhouse complex is that we have a huge variety of mature trees, many of them deciduous. So sometimes when I come home from work, there's a huge swath of leaves to drive through. If it's windy, it's raining leaves. I love this.

[hrj.livejournal.com]

I'm guessing you don't rake them!

[joycebre.livejournal.com]

no, we have gardening service (there are at least 100 units in this complex), but! we have a retired lady who loves to rake, and will often rake the whole drive, or at least the part I drive. it's a lot of leaves!

[aryanhwy.livejournal.com]

It's amazing how quickly the days shorten once we hit the equinox. All of a sudden it's dark by 7pm, and in another two months, it'll be dark by 4pm.

Monday when we headed out to school, it was 2C. This is the moment I truly felt that summer was over.

[pixel39.livejournal.com]

The change in light and then *generally* the gradual falling of the average temperature.