The mornings have been cool and damp — though not wet — for a couple of weeks now. The leaves on the trees have not turned, but if you look carefully you can see a hint of what is to come: the oaks and the locusts are not wholly green.

Yet again, I think of frost:

Nothing Gold Can Stay
by Robert Frost

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leafs a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

When I wake in the morning, I crave oatmeal. It's dark when I leave the house for work. The sunrise, when I can see it for lack of clouds, now occurs after I've reached the shop. Mornings are cool and crisp. The afternoons are warm but not hot. In the evening, I need a sweatshirt if I'm to be outside. Sunsets, like last night, are often a riot of pink and orange. The chill in the air at dusk makes me think of high school football games.

Just ten minutes ago, the heater kicked on for the first time this year. I checked the thermometer: it's 54 (12c) outside and 62 (17c) inside. Cool, but not cold. And just enough to match the thermostat's parameters.

When I rolled out of bed today, I pondered over my clothing options: jeans and a t-shirt? That's been my uniform for several months. But, no. We're going to spend most of the day outside, painting the house. It's chilly. Time to put on the winter clothes for the first time: a ratty old sweatshirt and an unmatched pair of sweatpants.

I'll head downstairs in a few minutes to fix myself a hot breakfast. Unfortunately, I know we're out of my oatmeal. I may have to go to the store. On an autumn morning like this, I need my Bob's Red Mill whole grain hot cereal. (Especially if I'm going to be painting the house all day!)

On this day at foldedspace.org

2004 — A Bit of a Puff   I've been smoking my pipe lately.

2003 — Heart of the Family   In which I am home, sick. In which the kitten is the heart of the family. In which we can't get enough Six Feet Under.