Like A Snowball Rolling Down Hill

Fall                                       Waning Blood Moon

The change of seasons has picked up some momentum in the past couple of days with two hard freezes in a row, then snow last night.  We’re not in late fall yet, that won’t come until November, so we could still have Indian summer, but for now, we’ve moved into meteorlogical simulacrum of early November.

It changes the feeling here.  Jackets come out, gloves go on, stocking caps replace billed caps.  There is, too, the phenomenon I used to notice most at Macalester College when I  lived in St. Paul.  One day with below freezing temps and certain Mac students would walk the streets in heavy down coats, hoods up, scarfs around the neck and insulated mittens.  Often, they would have special winter boots.  These were the wealthy kids from points south whose parents grew worried when they realized their darling would have to bear a Minnesota winter.   Freshman to a person, I’m a sure.

As for myself, I love to have on warm clothing when it’s cold outside.  The air braces me, kick starts the mental engines.  The combination of a warm torso and a cold face is a pleasure others–those outside the cold belt–would have a hard time understanding.

The snow blower got its mechanical freak on in May so it’s ready.  The furnace went on here today, set at 59.  We’ve had almost three weeks with no heating and no cooling.

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