This morning when I awoke, the temperature was sixty degrees. It was spitting rain, so Archer's running club was canceled. By noon a chilly wind was forcing everyone to clasp their jackets tight across their bodies.
A cold front rolled through during the day. One of Cady Gray's teachers observed, to her amusement, that it was fall in the morning and winter in the afternoon. (I had to explain to her that she didn't mean it literally.)
Even when the seasons change as gradually as they possibly can, there's always a moment where it happens far too suddenly, and you aren't ready. I had my warmest, softest sweater, but I was wishing for a hat and scarf. The gray skies and persistent mist made me feel even colder, and I cursed the crisp fall weather than seemed to have deserted me without warning.
The sudden cold has its good side, though. All at once you're reminded of how wonderful it is to walk into a warm house, or to feel the heat starting to seep up from the floorboards of a car. I had moments today when I fantasized about starting up the fireplace. But then again, I was reminded that the last time we had a fire going it, it was because the heater had conked out. Time to call the man so that I won't have to wear those warm sweaters indoors this season.