First Frost

It is official at my house. The warm days are gone for 2013. We had our first frost on Thursday night.

Every day up until this point, I like to fantasize that we can still get some decent heat. It would be great to get more than brief moments. A burst of sun on a patio, but the angle is wrong. The light is there, but the effect is not the same, we have tilted away.

The signs are all around me, no matter how I wish to blink my eyes and be back in the long lazy days of 2 months ago.

  • The central heating has been turned on. My husband broke down in the first week of October. My daughter thinks she needs even more heat down in her room.
  • The rug colors have changed from the bright greens of Summer to the reds of Winter. (That changes up the whole look of the house every 6 months).
  • My garden is almost tucked in for the winter. A bit more trimming to do.
  • The patio furniture is ready for a big tarp, the cushions are in storage.
  • The deck will get a long runner of carpet to allow a trail of safe passage through the frost.
  • My kids have fallen back into the routine of school. The field trips have started. First one on Thursday to go skating. (Indoor rinks here on the Coast).
  • Evening family movies start-up again. With the long days of summer, we spent all our time outside, doing stuff.
  • Knitting big chunky wooly things doesn’t seem crazy anymore. I knit all summer too, looks a bit strange at the beach.
  • Nature puts on a fantastic show before heading into the long slumber.
  • The “V” formations of birds heading South are tracking overhead.
  • The last days of the Farmer’s markets, offering so many kinds of squash!
  • We start to feel more introspective. We read, we learn.

Steve Sabol wrote this poem called, “The Autumn Wind”. A humorous look at the weather which can either beat down your mood or cause a stiffening of resolve to soldier on.

The Autumn Wind is a pirate,
Blustering in from sea,
With a rollocking song, he sweeps along,
Swaggering boisterously.

His face is weather beaten.
He wears a hooded sash,
With a silver hat about his head,
And a bristling black mustache.

He growls as he storms the country,
A villain big and bold.
And the trees all shake and quiver and quake,
As he robs them of their gold.

The Autumn Wind is a raider,
Pillaging just for fun.
He’ll knock you ’round and upside down,
And laugh when he’s conquered and won.

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