Seasons Change

Our King Sunflower from inside our living room window.

It is difficult to believe that over a year has passed since we arrived in POrtland last summer. One of the things for which I am so thankful about living in the Pacific Northwest is the clearly defined passing of seasons. Cool temperatures have blown into town this week bringing with them the anticipation of fall, the bit of sadness with the passing of summer, and yet the hope of the freshness of new things which come with the cooling temperatures. Eighteen days in counting until the first day of kindergarten. Rynn is marking the squares on my calender until she "gets to wear her Hello Kitty backpack and go learn Japanese." I'm still trying to suck the marrow out of the last bit of sunshine and the lazy pace of summer. As I ran through our neighborhood this morning the smell, the feel of the air, the formations of the clouds, all signaled a flood of memories. Not only did the cool temperatures bring back memories of falls past- in Chapel Hill, in Boston, in Philadelphia, in Houston (no, wait, not in Houston...it never quite felt like this in houston), in Chattanooga, but here in Portland too. I realized that I actually have memories here now, memories of an August past here in this very place. The realization of that made me smile as I ran through a neighborhood that is becoming MINE. It takes time to settle into a place, and we are far from being oldtimers in this progessive city. Yet, as we begin our second year here, with memories of seasons changing, I can now call it home- and mean it.