I can remember clearly when it was too hot to sleep.
Now I am curling tightly into my covers.
The Autumn equinox came upon us at 10:34pm PST last night. The shift is suddenly complete.
It smells wonderful outside.
The season is kissing the earth on the nape of her neck. Gently.
It is also deliciously quiet.
Those few people who are not tucked into the corner of a bookstore, a coffee shop, or their homes are on the street only because they have a specific purpose.
They have been working late and are finally getting home.
They are walking across the city to meet a friend.
They are restless. They need a wet kind of quiet.
Something about the temperature (just cold enough), the smell, the rain, and the indiscriminate whitegrey that fills the sky entirely makes me think of soccer.
An explanation by way of anecdote:
When I was in 8th grade, my soccer team sat squarely on the top of our league for one very specific reason. We were amazingly adept in the mud.
It is a soggy, dripping, mossy, thick, secretive season.
And I am curling up quietly with a book.
