We are having damp weather. The rain tinkled in the spouts all night long, and low clouds hung over Columbus in the morning. The air was damp and foggy, like it is in the best places. When the day is damp enough, at twilight, you get a deepening weird blue before dark that’s good to be out in.
The melancholy rain has made a cheerful moss on all the trees. Columbus is at its best autumnal, and the autumn here is protracted. We still have many trees in color and a lot of green, though everywhere increasingly the Christmas trees are what’s entire. The walnuts and the locusts go very early, but the oaks are not the last, the sweetgums seem to be. And the maples, there are so many kinds of maples, all flame out over the weeks of October and November. The redwoods are quite gradual, and there’s a number of those chaps.
* * *
On my walk, because I can, because it’s right next door and on my way no matter where I’m going, really, I stopped at Half-Price Books to see if I was missing out on anything. They had this languid French singer singing to twangy music, and I found it oddly apt. I found nothing else though.
* * *
The wife of me seems to have nosed her way into her dream job: making pastries. They’re still trying her out, and she them, but it seems to be an ideal match. Fewer late nights for us, though, if she starts work at 6AM. We’ll see, but it’s food and the place likes her, not surprisingly.