Could it have been a more perfect weekend in Boston for outdoor activities? Answer: no; no it couldn’t have been. The sky was a brilliant blue, cloudless, and sunshiney, demanding that you get outside and stay there until the sun set and the moon rose over the city. I went apple picking with friends—an excuse really to head to the farm and gorge on cider donuts, Cookie Monster-style.
Every day now I think, This could be the last morning without the heat on, the last sweaterless afternoon, the last night without the quilt. In other words, a little death is coming. Sorry, but I dread winter. I’m still adjusting to the disappearance of lemonade, bathing suits, and long afternoon shadows. Already I’m being asked to dip into my winter sweaters, mourn the foliage, and bid adieu to the ephemeral season of the cider donut. I won’t do it. Instead, I’m heading out to my porch, bundled in layers, with a good book and turning my face to the sun, pretending I’m at the ocean waiting on a cool breeze.