One thing we do not have here in the Pacific Northwest, and which I will always miss, is a brilliant blaze of fall color. There are no oranges here, and no hot pinks. Barely any red. Not many deciduous trees at all, and the ones we do have–mostly largeleaf maple and aspen–turn mottled yellow-brown. Oh, well.

What we do have here is a true autumn. In the Midwest the colors turn all in a week, while the weather is still dog-panting hot, then overnight there is a four-inch rainfall that turns to ice, pulls the leaves down, and when you wake up in the morning it’s winter. Game over.

Here, autumn is long and glorious. In September the temperatures become comfortably cool and it begins to rain again, maybe once a week. This holds steady until sometime in early November, when the fog and frost begins. So we have two months of what fall color there is–two months of falling leaves–of rosehips and snowberries, ripe apples and pumpkins and mellow yellow sunshine, which we know we’d better soak up before it goes away.

It’ll do.





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