I’m missing the summer sunsets at 8 pm, especially since the sun now sets around 4:30 every afternoon. When I leave work around 6, the city is illuminated with the grid of traffic lights between skyscrapers, but the sky is pitch black. When it’s so dark that early, I want to come home, curl up on the couch, watch old episodes of Mad Men and make tapioca pudding, a remnant from my childhood.
We carved pumpkins for Halloween, I splurged on an expensive new pair of boots (they were on sale, but still a splurge) last weekend, and the leaves are falling. It’s fall and very, very soon, it will be winter.
Fall is beautiful, but I’ve always hated winter. Even though “winter” in Seattle means rain and 40 degrees, (instead of my Midwestern memories of snow, below-zero windchill, snow plows, mittens, blizzards, and three different ice scrapers) I’m not looking forward to it.
My dislike for the season isn’t helped by predictions of a harsh winter — that, and I live on a very steep hill, and Seattle drivers don’t know what to do in snow. Every morning I jaywalk across 4 lanes of traffic to the bus stop. When it snows for the first time, my morning commute will be interesting, assuming the buses are running that morning. Luckily, I still have a pair of snow boots. I bought them my last winter in South Dakota, on sale at Cabela’s, and I’ve worn them exactly twice. They are not fashionable, but they are warm, even in several inches (or feet) of snow.