Overnight the temperature plummeted, and it was in the 30s when Penny and I ventured out this morning for our walk. For the first time since early April, the barn coat and gloves were hauled out of the closet and donned against the brisk morning air.
Much as I love summer, I also love the changing seasons. As the temperatures slide from the Ss (60s/70s) to the Fs (40s/50s) to the Ts (20s/30s), the morning walk experience also changes in noticeable ways. Your breath comes out in visible puffs. Ghostly white clouds of water vapor billow from the storm water grates and hang in the sharp air. The light of the crescent moon shines on grass covered with a thin reflective layer of frost, and the Hunter, the Big Dipper, and their fellow stars seem brighter and clearer in the black sky. The layer of frost makes you walk with newfound care as you cross the slippery wooden plank walkway around the edge of the wispy steam-covered pond.
By the end of the walk your nose is cold, your cheeks are ruddy, and you are wide awake. The feelings are all very familiar, and very comforting. It’s grand to be alive on such a morning!