Today began chilly and dreary, with dark patches of sky, unmoving, nudging against each other and with a heavy feeling of rain in the air. All morning, the weather shifted back and forth from this stillness to sporadic rain. Only in early afternoon did the wind pick up, gusting chunks of the grey sky away, clearing space for clear, cold blue patches to emerge.
Now the wind blusters through, stripping the looser leaves from the trees in a flurry of green and yellow scraps, and sun beams through with only light and no heat. Autumn hangs in the air, trying to push summer aside for good. Today it feels as though it may succeed. My toes, even though they are up against my tiny ceramic heater in the cabin, still are numb within my shoes. My fingers, too, are chilled, though my sweater sleeves feel cozy against my arms.
I am ready for autumn, but not for winter; being in the midst of the former, though, has to be seen as the orchestral warm up for the opus, and I cannot escape the concert.