Thoughts On a Stormy Day

The wind and rain outside are fierce and cold. They bite at the fingers and ears and cover the world in a wet bitter breeze that reaches across the ocean and pours onto the land. Fall is coming in Oregon. The turning of color in the trees, the yellowing of the tall grasses that populate the hill. Its when you feel warmer in the water then out of it. When you walk outside in the morning in bare feet and find that each wisp of grass is enclosed in a crystal water casing that froze overnight. When the trees lose their pine needles, and you spend half of fall trying to keep them raked up. The time when the sunflowers, heavy and round, hang their heads with the weight. It's when you wake up and you can't see the sun, only a pallid grey sky that holds heavy clouds that settle all day. The creaking and slamming of the barn door as the wind pulls and pushes it. It's fall in Oregon.