As much as I complain about the weather (either it's too hot, cold, windy, or it's just too perfect and I have nothing to complain about), I do like to live in a place with four actual seasons. Especially when they are seasonal and have a gradual and predictable progression. Well, maybe not predictable, because then I suppose weather forecasters would be right once in a while.
Last Sunday, we walked up to the grocery store in shorts and t-shirts and Brooklynn in her stroller with no blanket. It was in the 80s.
On Tuesday, it was chilly, overcast, and rainy. I had an idea of what was coming and decided to get the raking done for the leaves that had fallen from the previous cold snap.
I'm pretty sure at least one of my neighbors now thinks I'm crazy for taking pictures of a row of leaves in a cold drizzle. About 24 hours later...
This picture was actually taken at 8:30 at night while it was still snowing. You can see the glow from the yard lights on the fence. The long exposure blurred out any actual flakes, but they continued to come down well into the evening, otherwise known as way after the forecasters said the system would be gone.
I think we're packing up Brooklynn's dresses and flimsy outfits for good at this point. She's close to outgrowing most of them anyway, which means that Rhiannon needs to do clothes shopping again sometime. (Note that I said clothes, not shoes. Rhiannon, this means you, pay attention.)