A few weeks back I wrote how this was the "last warm day" of the season and indeed, one of those posts proved to be right because I cannot remember any hot summer moments thereafter. Now, I am facing the fact that tomorrow we'll have the "last even medium warm" day of the year and after that -- well, riding Rosie will no longer be a given.
Already this morning, I felt under-protected from the wind and this despite the beautiful sunshine that warmed our pale yellow fields and dapples of gold beyond.
I pull my gloves on and forge ahead, but it is not toasty out there.
When the weather finally turns (Thursday), I'm imagining I'll not be suffering the consequences of it because I do not have to go to work! Indeed, I cannot go to work. This particular Thursday President Obama relieved me of my duties by announcing a campus visit that places him right outside my office window over on Bascom Mall. I thought I'd have front row seats, but it appears that our building has to be emptied for the day and so suddenly I have a blank schedule. Sort of like Thanksgiving only without the turkey. In gratitude, I plan on watching the debate the day before, even though I am not among the undecided.
But until then, work continues and intensifies. I leave early (after breakfast, of course)…
… just as the sun is cracking the horizon at the old orchard to the east.
Though the truck farmers beat me to it. These are the weeks of the final harvest and the farmers are racing to beat the big frost clock.
It's not early fall anymore.
Evening. I meet Ed at Paul's cafe and we both promptly fall asleep. Our planned tennis game goes to the wayside.
We steer our motorbikes home, past the fields of market flowers and spent vegetables…
And I pause just for a second, to pass on greetings to farmer Lee and this may be the last time that I see her this year, because she tells me (if I understand her correctly) that she's closing shop for the season. She hands me a large bouquet of flowers, but I'm not sure she is the one who should be thanking me. Who benefited most from her work at the farmette? I would guess we did.
I turn Rosie home...
…where Farmer Lee's flowers look so splendid in the late evening sun.
There is nothing special for dinner. Ed is tired and snacked up for the day. I haven't the inclination to cook up the next soup. How about a sweet potato with a scrambled egg and a leftover piece of smoked salmon?
Isis sniffs appreciatively but I chase him down. Mine, little cat. This dinner is mine.