During the bulk of the warmest October on record, you could feel the fall trying to come on in the Pacific Northwest. Higher north, the amount of light in a single day drops off precipitously: the sun passes from east to west much lower in the sky, barely arcing over the tree-line like a deflating balloon, and the day ends quickly. The cold and dark come on hard.
Yet in the middle of all this, winds kick up mostly from the south and from the offshore currents from the west, occasionally sloshing in from the east due to the geography and dynamic climate of the region, bringing warm air from unseen lands baking in the south and in the interior, which then settle underneath a dense cloud layer. This sort of pattern is to be expected in the early fall, but which has been gradually growing in intensity and duration.
As I've mentioned before, confusion ensues in the plant and insect life. Animal confusion follows. Human confusion and consternation comes too. The seasonal labor winds down with a feeling of hesitation and frustration.
Heading south in mid November, I passed through some of those unseen lands. The misty north of Washington and then Oregon gave way to a furnace in California, almost instantly as the border was crossed, the sun shining and the heat radiating like mid summer. The cooling happens much more gradually, ever more so. The slowing and the silence follow that same delayed descent. There is so much to do, and less time to sit.
