I stayed home sick today. I've got a nasty cold, and this morning it sat on me and choked me until I couldn't breathe. I've tried to work from home and take drugs (which I HATE doing) and stay vertical, but it's a losing battle.
After reading my work e-mail (thanks zod, no fires), I opened the shades above my computer at home. It's definitely fall in Seattle. The colors aren't here yet - they never really are, they get washed away too quickly when the rains come, which is sad - but the grey coolness is everywhere.
I'm looking at the browning leaves of the lilac tree, the pale yellow of the neighbor's house with it's even brown roof shingles, the architecture of the cypress, the horizontal levels of grey from the clouds zooming overhead, the sumac leaves starting to turn bright yellow. Fall came too quickly this time. The sky shouldn't look like gunmetal until the trees along 23rd Avenue are scarlet.
I wish I could have taken a good picture of what I see. I used to love fall ... brilliant and cool and crisp and still lively ... but it's so quick here that I'm afraid of missing it, missing any transition from hot and sunny and overgrown to wet and bare and dark. I miss the reds and golds and bronzes against the slightly whitish blue sky with only the high, faint jet trails crossing it.
I'd love to have one more day in an earth-colored plaid wool coat, walking in the forest preserve with my Mom and Dad and brothers, kicking up dry leaves and then heading to the apple orchard in Lake Zurich. I'm a big softie, I know. Fall always makes me want to be a kid again.