where was fall?

On September 25 I wore shorts and a tank top.  It was a sweaty day at the ball park. The air conditioner was churning, frequently watering my herbs with the condensation. We had already had a record number of days (85) with over ninety degrees and this was just one more.  The next morning I dressed for church.  I put on capris and short sleeves.  And froze!  Everyone laughed that fall had arrived at 8 a.m.

We tried to keep windows open.  We tried to treat it like fall.  I gave everyone a light blanket for their bed.  I wore more capris with fall shoes and no socks.  I pulled out sweatshirts for the boys to wear on their early morning walk to school.  I unpacked long pants for Bug.  Pook continued to wear shorts.  This was supposed to be fall... but I'm not entirely sure. 

Last evening I was huddled on the sofa in a blanket, wearing sweats and slippers.  I'd made a mug of tea just to warm up.  I put an additional blanket on each bed. The night time temps and leave-for-school temps were in the forties.  We gave up.  We turned on the heat.  Winter?

We had August.  August in Atlanta is pretty evil stuff.  Hot.  Sweaty.  Dry.  Did I say Hot?  We're used to this and we're all prepared to ride it out.  The other eleven months make it worthwhile to survive August.  Usually.  But we never had September this year.  We never had slightly cooler but pleasant temperatures.  We didn't have the windows open, fresh smelling air and feeling of relief from all that heat.  Instead, September was August version 2.0.  Hot.  Sweaty hot.  Dry to the point of drought.

When October came, when fall was officially ushered in, it brought such a dramatic change that I'm still trying to adapt.  What happened to the season of long sleeves without a coat?  Jeans and sandals?  Sweatshirts with shorts (which Pook can do but always looks like he belongs on Cape Cod)?  The yard hasn't realized what has happened either. I still have a cheerful cherry tomato plant, happy to finally have rain.  The last regular tomato is turning red with many more blooms on the plant.   Only dogwood trees are even thinking of changing the color of their leaves, and those are still subtle.

"Baseball Dood" by Pook (9) and Bug (6) as entered in a scarecrow contest.  There is at least one sign of fall around here!