Fall Arrives Like an Avalanche

I promised myself that I would not post much when depressed or generally surly. So for the last week or I haven't posted, instead I have mulled and stewed and done a good job of imitating a snapping turtle, with rabies, on meth. Some of it was work related, it appears that I am heading for a third "adjustment" to my dissertation, this time, for reasons too complicated and involved to delve into here, sufficeth to say I am non-plussed about the situation. Most of my moodiness has been the weather. The summers in St. Louis are usually insufferable for a Pacific Northwest boy, and this summer has been especially bad. Too much heat and humidity, too much stagnant air, too many mornings where my balls are sweaty before I can even get on the bike. As September has dragged on the summer has clinged to the city, and I have gotten progressively more bitter, more angry. I need fall, more than I need spring, and fall seemed to be hiding out in Pittsburgh and Seattle and Spokane. This morning I woke to a cold house, a cold city, a cold ride. I got to wear the windstopper fleece and the long fingered gloves, and wished I had worn riding tights and not shorts. Fall is finally here, its arrival gives my soul the reset it needed, and soon the sycamores and maples will soon turn colors, and the city shall throw off the oppressive cloak of summer green for her fall coat of color. Most importantly, I am happy today.