The wind is harder. The leaves have lost their color and grown crunchy. The mornings have a chill. The evenings, on the quiet ones, you can almost hear the thermometer giving a great sigh. It gets dark early, so a quick walk right after work looks like this.
It’ll get worse for another month and change, but then the solstice brings the first hint of a distant reprieve. The next day is longer! By a minute! And 10 days later the coldest month begins. It’ll already be cold, and dark, and gray, though. In truth, while something on me — my toes or ears or fingers — will always be cold, the actual temps will rightfully be considered mild by some. Winter is relative, but it is a constant, much like my whining about it. And it’ll stay that way until April.
My electric blanket is ready.
I will keep it out of the snow, which is due in on Saturday morning.
All of the signs suggest a hard winter, he said, writing on one of the last two days of wonderful, mild weather. The caterpillars with seasonal setae are suggesting it — because caterpillars know things. Even social media is suggesting it. As if you needed another reason to put a pause on social media.
Anyway, we went on a little walk into the gloaming, which ended in the proper darkness. You’d think that this would change the sort of conversation that you have with someone — like it’d be more whimsical or unguarded or dreamlike — but not really. It was the usual normal of nerdy.
The real difference is that we had our first instance of “How is it only nine o’clock?”
Six months ago, and six months hence, it’ll just be getting dark about that time. But, for a time, I can reacquaint myself with more indoor hobbies.
They’ve really been piling up.
