Reading for the Chill

We had the long, slow slide towards Autumn, late Summer sun slanting and brilliant, still hot and dry. Then I turn around and it's Fall. It's brisk. The cats are huddled in search of warmth because I haven't turned on the heat yet. They creep into my lap at any opportunity. I walk about feeling cold because I automatically put on a short-sleeved shirt and neglect a sweater.

But let's savor this cool air for a while yet. I bring out another fluffy layer of fleece, and the cats creep onto it and burrow in. I put on a turtleneck, a fleece layer, my fleece vest. I'm comfortable inside, pleasantly cool. The house makes little creaks of adjustment as the sun warms the roof. I make some hot chocolate, glad that I recently replenished my supply before the cold hit--and contemplate plans for the next month, the season before the New Year. I make soup. I work in the office. I go outside to sample the air and check the state of the yard.

But the first freeze is coming on. I know that. I spent some of my afternoon stripping the garden of any useable fruit or herb; some things do not tolerate the cold at all. The last of the basil must be taken in or it'll be dead by morning. The last few pitiful green tomatoes hang hiding in the leaves. I can't decide whether they are worth saving. I leave them to their fate.

Then at last, it's evening. After a dinner of soup and late-season pesto, I know it's time. It's still above 60 inside, but I turn the thermostat down to 70 and turn on the heat. I tilt my head to catch the faint sounds of the furnace perking to life. A raccoon (it can only be a raccoon-no possum or squirrel runs that heavy) goes running across the roof. And the cats stretch and blink. It's still cool inside, but the extra edge of chill gradually dissipates. At last, it's really Fall! Time to cozy in.