Torrential rains yesterday evening, as I was driving back to the Press from a shopping run (guacamole and chips; two berry scones; eggs to make egg muffins over the weekend; a Côtes-du-Rhone for sangria with Cointreau and orange slices). The parking lot was inches deep in rain in just a quarter of an hour.
But it all cleared, and we listened to Mozart calmly on the way home. And tonight will be the annual Festival of Lessons and Carols on campus, in the chilly gold-and-song-lit church, and I'm trying to summon energy to go because it's always cheering at the start of this so-busy season.
The things that stay in memory from my week are the raccoon dead in the road that made me sad and the bicycle built for two parked by the walking trail, a child's seat and wheel behind the adult's, gracefully and sweetly joined.
So it begins, the descent into winter, the thoughts of hibernation and all things to keep off the chill.