Fall fell.

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The 100 year old leaded glass in my windows, distorts things enough so that, from a distance, they look like an impressionistic painting.  Fall has come to my part of the world.  And it’s beautiful.  It’s all the things you think fall should be:  cool crisp days, apple harvest, pumpkins, leaves, wood smoke and comfort food.  The occasional sun peeks out every 3 weeks; the days stay over-cast.  That same cloud cover provides a warmth to the days.  Not warmth like the sun in your face but a different kind, like a wool sweater over a short-sleeved tee shirt.

 Cold nights ease into gray mornings more often than not in the Pacific Northwest.  People here are more moved by the weather than in anywhere else I have been.  It psychologically and pysiologically affects us. 

 Fall will give way to winter any day now.  As the cold and dark days come, we move inward, sit around fires with a book, and OK, mac & cheese or around a bar table with heavy, calorie-laden beer.  Some of us, the very disciplined (like my wife) still exercise.  All of us struggle with the lack of light.

 It’s a wonderful place.  Except for the absent sun, I would say it’s perfect.  And I know that the spring and summer will come again.  We live the seasons here–feel them deep within us.  And it’s great.

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