Falling into Fall

It might have been the astronomical autumn since Sept 22 or thereabouts, but our temps have only slowly declined. So slowly in fact, that it is the first week of November and I can finally feel like fall has come. And I know this because:

We turned the a/c off in early October and haven't been tempted to turn the heat on.

We're still using the ceiling fans but the box fans are off.

The windows are open.

I pulled a blanket out to cover my feet as I huddled under the summer quilt.

The laundry is switching from whites and creams to browns and blacks.

The hall tree, bare since May, has accumulated two jackets.

And finally, I know it's fall when I find my house shoes!

The joys? of a new purse

If part of the joy of the arrival of autumn is switching to a new purse, then part of the non-joy is getting used to it.

My summer purses are snap or zipper-closed affairs with easy access to my keys. The latest one had two end pockets with elastic at the top where I could stash a nail file and a lipstick, pens, shopping list, etc without ever opening the bag. I could dig while driving and still keep my eyes on the road.

My new winter purse, a glorious Brahmin concoction of dark brown, has one large pocket on the back but bulging items will not be welcome there. It closes with a flap and twisty lock, like a door, which means I have to open it to get to my secured keys. It's roomy, or I wouldn't have bought it, and it has space for the iPad, a device which changed my purse-buying habits forever. Or until it's smaller. But that's called an iPhone.

So I now have to balance the newest member of my wardrobe on a counter in order to open and not have it threaten to spill. This is a circumstance I did not see happening in the glory hour of finding it in the Brahmin store. I was so delighted to find a purse with ample room, glorious pedigree, single handle able to be carted over-shoulder, and ON SALE! that I didn't really figure all the what-ifs.

I will learn. Really, I can. Still.

NOW it's autumn

I judge the advent of autumn in many ways:

The calendar, which is usually unreliable since it can still be in the 90s for weeks.

The turning of the leaves, except this year it's been so dry we're just happy to see trees still having leaves, no matter the color.

The urge to put away all white slacks and sandals. (But I did that the week after Labor Day so it hardly counts. Some Southern traditions are ingrained.)

Turning off the a/c and opening the windows is a hint. Turning off the ceiling fans, which I did today, is closer to confirmation.

Eyeing my closet and moving tank tops and crop pants out, three-quarter sleeve garments in.

Realizing I have to put on real shoes or risk very cold toes. Happened this morning. Had to scramble for loafers, so this afternoon I packed away my sandals.

But the one sure way to know it's autumn for me: the changing of the purse. Good-bye woven bag with bright orange trim, hello dark brown leather.

There's a nip in the air!

How to make lovely dried arrangements for your autumn decorating

Start in April or May with lovely baskets bursting with flowers.

Place on the front porch and given them plant food and water.

Maybe not everyday, but once it gets hot, then water everyday.

And sometimes in the evenings when it reaches 100+ degrees for oh, say, 60 or more days.

Watch the weaker flat out die.

Watch the stronger struggle and halfway die until...

It's the fall! And on your front porch where once your had million bells and Gerber daisies, you now have brown plants.

In other words, beautiful autumn arrangements which you paid for in the spring.

Now, wasn't that easy?

It finally feels like winter

It "northered" Sunday night. Sunday afternoon temps were in the 70s and the air was very still, as if the atmosphere was just waiting for the Next Big Thing. None of us were disappointed when it arrived. Rain, like buckets from the sky, then wind, and a temperature plummet. Monday was viciously windy. The temps may have been in the 50s, but the wind chill was far below that. Today the wind was less, the temps a bit higher, but my Texas bones would still call it cold.

The ginkgo lost the rest of its leaves. The roses continue blooming. Ah... autumn in Texas, where it feels like summer one day and winter the next.

But it's not even Halloween!

In the spirit of setting my home aright for the double-duty it will perform the 4th week of November, I hauled down my scanty autumn and Thanksgiving decorations. In the past, I've collected turkeys, but the only two which have survived are a painted gourd one with a feather-duster tail and a metalwork fellow who appears anorexic. He has no fear of being on the table. Assorted pumpkins and that was it.

Alas, not nearly enough to set for a family baptismal celebration and Thanksgiving four days later. Off I went to shop.

Hobby Lobby, bless their hearts, had all sorts of stuff half-price. This was just great and I added metal pumpkins and candle holders and candles to my booty. I had pulled out my tablecloths and Target supplied another, as did Bed Bath and Beyond. Kirkland's was practically giving it away and I found some awesome wine glasses which we'll use on Thanksgiving Day when I'll have a better chance of controlling the toddler population and the glassware.

What bothers me is that I've done all this wonderful autumn shopping--and it's just October--not even Halloween--and it was all half price or less! And why might that be? Because the Christmas decorations are flooding the next aisles and demanding the space occupied by the fall goodies!

I'm not even thinking about Christmas beyond the gift list and I'm already a holiday behind. Sheesh!

"Fall"in' into autumn

As the hot days of August give way to mid-September, we gradually change our habits, falling into a pattern we've developed over nearly 30 years in this house. The a/c goes off and the windows go up. But not all of them like in the spring. Six month ago it was only going to get hotter. Now, we'll more likely close a window than open a new one. First, the doors stay open in the mornings and late into the evening. Then, they don't. The ceiling fans are turned down, then off. The extra bedroom fan is stored.

Then one day, I'll wake up and not open a window. During the night, we would have arisen and closed the ones in the bedroom. The blanket will be dragged from the cedar chest. I'll wear socks, then house shoes. Both cats will beat us to bed to get warm. One day the decision will be made: the heat will have to be turned on. The smell from an unused system will fill the house and then dissipate.

It will be what passes for winter in north Texas.

And I'll be hungry for spring.

You know it's autumn when...

The obvious answer is: it's colder. Daytime highs are in the 70s and at night it's in the 50s. Great sleeping weather. Pull the quilt to your chin, tuck your feet under the nearest obese neutered cat (we have two) and sleep the night away.

But there are other signs autumn is in the air.

The hall tree does a reversal. While the trees outside are dropping their leaves, the inside tree is gather jackets, sweaters, and coats. Soon, they'll be piled on top of one another and disgust at the sight will make me drag everything upstairs and hang it up. We are not at that stage yet.

The laundry transitions from two loads of light-colored clothes to one of light and one of dark to two of dark. Instead of being tucked in with the towels, the jeans now have their own load. There are socks and knee-hi's and--egad!--the occasional pair of hose. (Very occasional. My goal is to limit my exposure to once or twice a year.)

Leftover morning coffee isn't pitched at dinnertime because it's been heated and absorbed for warmth during the day.

Ice builds up in the ice maker.

I have to find the houseshoes. All of them: lightweight, cuffed, fun, scuffs.

The ceiling fans are turned off one by one and the windows more closed than cracked.

The outside cats are huddled together on the chaise in the morning.

And the last reason to know autumn is in the air: the postman is bent double under the catalogs trying to sell me Christmas!