Return from the birthday weekend of much rain

We got back from our birthday weekend in Ogunquit a couple of hours ago. Honestly, we could have stayed home and had almost the same effect. We couldn't do much of anything outdoors with the ridiculous rain, and spent a whole lot of time in our room at the B&B. Speaking of, the B&B was less than stellar (no housekeeping service during our stay, okay breakfast, found out our women-owned-women-run B&B was being leased by two guys, hot tub didn't work, couldn't control the heat in the room) on top of everything else. Oh well, chalk it up to a learning experience, I suppose.

We made the best of our Friday night, Saturday was a waterlogged trip to Freeport to take over LL Bean, and today we took a gusty (but non-rainy) long walk down the Marginal Way to Perkins Cove and back up to downtown O. The ride home was gusty but easy, and I'm definitely more tired than I was before we left thanks to a rock-hard bed and a call from Jen's job at 6am on Saturday. Still, I'm glad we went. It's nice to have an entire weekend with my best girl ever.

So I didn't have the big bang of a party that I probably should have for my 30th (I suppose I still have time since my birthday isn't until tomorrow, but seeing as I'm working all day and then babysitting all night...), but still, this is going to be my biggest year yet. By the time I turn 31 I expect to be both a homeowner and a parent. Mark my words.

p.s. Happiest of Birthdays to one of my favorite Libras, thatpatti!

The Off-Season

It seems like everyone had chili for dinner tonight. And why not? It is definitely chili weather.

~//~

The smell in my brain is crisp air tinged with wood smoke, the sound is crunching leaves under stiff shoes. The fwip feel of corduroy is between my legs and my hands are just dry enough to need dots of lotion. Warm, thick, stick-to-your-ribs meals have replaced cool salads - oatmeal for breakfast, creamy soups for lunch, stews for dinner. The sky is grey and ominous during the day, clear by night with sparkling stars.

Today, Smooch and I lived and breathed true autumn on the southern Maine coastline. I zipped my fleece vest over my sweater and we pulled her too-long knitted sleeve over our clasped hands. "Clever mittens you have," she said as she passed us, a well-bundled speed-walker on Shore Road. "I'm just not ready for it to be this cold," I admitted, and she agreed. Houses puffed smoke from chimneys and nearby, someone had started burning the first of the season's cast-off leaves.

We stood on sharp outcroppings of rock over a surging grey sea, bitter mist blowing off waves made stronger with high wind. Our hair whipped frantically, giving us natural toupees, the cold air causing the first rosey cheeks and earaches of October. Scarecrows and pumpkins were the decor du jour, bags of brightly-wrapped candy flooded shelves, patio tables stacked and abandoned. This is the Off Season.

Today was a day for cold hands wrapped around hot cups of coffee, for bigger loads of laundry due to thicker and heavier clothing, for waterproof duckboots and smartwool socks. It is autumn, and it is our birthday, and it is Halloween time, and it is the end of the days you can get manage without coats. This is the last month I can truly stand, the last hold-out before Daylight Saving Time "fall back" hell, and that first strange whiff of the home heat that has been off since April.

It's time to bake heavy breads, stiff pies, and warm dinner rolls. It's time for cranberries and pumpkins and too many apples, for birthday presents and Halloween costumes, for fireplaces and cord wood and oil trucks.

It's time.