as the crow flies

It's coming up on Autumn. Rapidly. The past two days have decided to put Summer back up on its shelf and await a new year because for now, the winds are changing again.

Watch me eat those very words when we get some spastic, late-September heat wave that leaves me wanting to wring myself into the Willamette River. 

Nonetheless, the air smells different and I find myself wanting to listen to The Frames and Joanna Newsom. And Sundowner - a singular and eternal season in and of itself. With just two days of temperatures below 70 degrees and already I'm ready to trade my leather sandals for boots of the same breed. My bright green asparagus and fuschia radishes for deceptively citrus-colored gourds and squash, earthy mushrooms and toasted hazelnuts from orchards that neighbor the winery. 

Robin sent me a message earlier today while I was running amuck throughout my apartment cleaning ("running amuck" meaning here that I was dodging the landmines of laundry and dust bunnies camping in the 500 square feet I call home):

"How does the air smell to you? Fallish? I think so.... It's so awesome. Can't stop smiling."

The girl was on to something. With my windows and front door open, trilling the Northwestern atmosphere into my home, I couldn't deny that there was something distinctly different from the warm(ish), blackberry scented breeze that I'd only just begun to get used to over the past few weeks. You've heard me prattle about the autumn air up here, and Brigette knows exactly what I'm talking about, but I'll never quite get over it: that ecstatic sensation of inhaling those first few whiffs of the season above all seasons. The Alpha and The Omega of weather patterns. That perfect time of year before the harshness of Winter bites into your life and begins to crystalize your blood and plasma until the next thaw. 

This is not to downplay winter, I love to play in the snow and splash through my fair share of puddles, but the fact that it steals away my autumn pisses me off sometimes. 

Anyway, I count it as no rare coincidence that a few hours later, as I was wiling away a couple of hours at the laundromat waiting for my wardrobe to come back to life, Dean cast a kindred-thought my way:

"I think fall is officially here!!! <3.... It smells and feels gorgeous outside. :)"

(The kid likes emoticons almost as much as I like parentheticals)

Having been inside for about an hour and a half, reading the seasonally appropriate Ray Bradbury,  inhaling only what I hope was Tide with a hint of Downey softener (oh God, please, let that have been the extent of it) I stood up and walked outside. Trees were being whipped ever so by the wind and oh! there... There it was, a flourish of leaves being discarded from their respective perches on the branches of oaks and maples and into the street. Back to the earth, back to feed new life, back from whence it came. 

And so it comes. People all get ready. 

(photo taken last year in front of Powell's, just off Burnside)