Today was a beautiful day. Gray skies and a breeze that, in the morning, brought a little chill with it. It's days like these that make me feel like staying inside, opening the windows and breathing in the first tinges of autumn.
It did warm up, but still it was nothing like our normal August weather. The storm that ate Florida is the reason for the cloud cover. I feel horrible that those living there are being deluged with rain and trying to hold on in high winds. But, I am grateful for the respite from the heat of summer here and the hope that we may get some of the rain that Fay carries with her.
There is something about a gray day that brings memories of when I was a small girl in Massachusetts. In the fall gray days were treats, especially if they were accompanied by a Nor'easter coming off the Atlantic.
I remember my parents piling us into the Buick, driving to the sea wall at Brant Rock and watching the surf pound against it with all of its might. The color of the ocean changed from deep, jade green to black with foam that flew in the air and stuck to whatever it landed on. Usually, it was our windshield. It was frightening and beautiful at the same time. But those trips to the sea wall instilled in me a love for the weather, no matter what it brings.
Gray days mean being home home with the lights on, curling up with a good book and thinking about soup. I really don't know why I think of soup, but I do.
Chicken soup, hamburger soup, clam chowder (New England style, of course!), corn chowder, baked potato soup. While my mind knows that it is still summer and autumn is a bit away, the thoughts of the cozy, warm things that accompany it fills me heart and soul.
They say that patience is a virtue. When it comes to autumn, I am not a virtuous woman. I want to hurry it along, push summer away, bring the rake out from hiding and take my sweaters down from the attic. But I can't.
I think I'll just pretend and go make some soup.