Last weekend

There was still just the faintest hint of summer in the air. After a gnarly windstorm, it seemed as though the warm weather was blown south and out of my life for the next I-don't-want-to-think-about-how-many months. But there were still things to remind me the season was not quite over.

I'm still waiting for YOU, Cherokee Purples.

And days like today, when I take off my cardigan after getting in the car, are days that give me hope.

But I must admit, the last few days of wearing slippers and long sleeves, eating chili and knitting cowl necks, also gave me hope that I might not complain when the cooler days come, after all (in case you couldn't tell by where my mind was in the last post).

Still, I think I need a few more plates like these, and maybe just one more dip in the river, and two ore three last bare-legged days, and I promise I'll be in a good mood this fall and winter.