Autumn arrived with impeccable timing. We woke up September first to a dark, threatening sky in fifteen shades of grey. Rain spattered down, leaving the pavement and streets glistening, and the gloomy overcast reminded me of a thousand first days of school.
We never seem to have much of a summer here in coastal Northern Californa. There ought to be a happy medium between the windy, foggy local weather and the perfect blue and gold days of my youth. Granted, the weather generally clears up here about the time the Pacific Northwest is getting socked in for the winter. It's drier and much milder here, too, which is why I live here and not there any more. But we don't have a proper summer, or at least we haven't had one for the last three years. First it was El Nino, then La Nina, and now I don't know which mythical entity people are blaming this recent chilly summer on. It's gone, though.
Snow fell in the Sierra this afternoon. Summer slipped away without saying goodbye, and autumn is on the doorstep looking hopeful.
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