Here is this morning’s forecast discussion on our NOAA weather page:
.DISCUSSION…The Northern Rockies will enjoy several more days of spectacular late fall weather. The mornings will start off pretty crisp at or below freezing. Otherwise expect Sunny skies with highs in the mid and upper 60s with light winds, ten degrees above normal. Take advantage of the next 5 days as it`s looking like we may not have several days of 60 degree weather until next spring.
I really hate it when they remind us that we won’t have any warm temperatures until next spring–as if we weren’t already clinging to every single glorious October day we’ve had this month. Geraniums are still in bloom on the porch, and frost has yet to appear on my Cinderella pumpkins next to the stone steps. Our evening dinners have been so late, as I can’t bring myself inside the house, and then they are interrupted, so I can run out on the dock to see the Hunter Moon. I feel like the squirrels, jumping from tree to tree, in their frantic work to put away winter’s stash of food. I came home with a final bag of vegetables from my farm, earlier in the week. It’s not really “my” farm, but as an early member of Mountain Kind Farm in their first season, I have delighted in getting all of my vegetables, locally grown, just ten minutes from the house. When the grandkids were here this summer, and we drove by the farm on our way into town, I told them to look out into the fields and see what was growing, and they loved to come with me to pick up our vegetables. I think we had roasted carrots and cucumber salad every night for months, declaring they were the best we’d ever eaten.
I will miss these next five days of “spectacular late Fall weather”. We fly out early tomorrow morning, for Cape Cod, to join friends who are flying in from Switzerland. Like it is here at home, their summer people will be gone, and I except it will be quiet and similarly cool and crisp. And, then, there is that smell of the sea, and I’m wondering if we’ll see the full Hunter Moon out over the ocean. Since my time living in Boston, now forty years ago, I have a powerful affinity for New England. I always thought I might live there again someday. It was not to be, but occasionally, I’ve been fortunate to return for visits, and it always captures my heart, especially the quintessential architecture. Once, I read a quote from an artist, who said she draws and paints that which she cannot have. I could photograph one of those enchanting historic homes, or the seaside, and spend some winter’s day, trying to capture what I love, in a watercolor painting.
At a minimum, although I have been to this part of Cape Cod in the past, I could do what John O’Donohue tell us: “The first time you see a place, take it all in, as you will never see it like this again.” I thought about that quote when I was in Ireland, along the Flaggy Shore in September, and how important it is to take it all in, and to understand it’s useless to think you’ll capture it, for we are neither here nor there.
Postscript, by Seamus Heaney
And some time make the time to drive out west
Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore,
In September or October, when the wind
And the light are working off each other
So that the ocean on one side is wild
With foam and glitter, and inland among stones
The surface of a slate-grey lake is lit
By the earthed lightening of flock of swans,
Their feathers roughed and ruffling, white on white,
Their fully-grown headstrong-looking heads
Tucked or cresting or busy underwater.
Useless to think you’ll park or capture it
More thoroughly. You are neither here nor there,
A hurry through which known and strange things pass
As big soft buffetings come at the car sideways
And catch the heart off guard and blow it open