Brief rain storms sweep in temporary cool fronts, but our first real dip in temperature later this week is right on schedule. November is here and seemingly overnight, the Pacific Northwest is finally shrouded in red, gold and auburn. And, Seattleites, always seasonal chameleons, have changed their colors, cloaked in quilted coats, hands in pockets, heads down against the mist.
Seattle twists slightly into focus a bit earlier after last weekend’s “Fall Back” while low-lying clouds hover over all things. There’s been a noticeable late afternoon chill in the air that when it lands on my skin, I shudder and utter a silent brrrr. I think, “it’s just the beginning of 6 months of this.”
Still not cold enough for a fire, our windows are shut tight at home, the street noise dulled just enough to make it my favorite time of year. A bit quieter, it almost seems like I’m in the rural country for a few fleeting seconds, but then I sadly realize we’re still in the urban jungle. Regardless, I like this annual passage.
I feel holed up, suddenly needing a blanket across my lap in the mornings as I sip steaming coffee from my favorite mug. It’s a speckled white and navy blue earthenware mug that was my father’s favorite for years before he died in January. Each morning, he looked forward to Café Francais, an International Coffee from Maxwell House. We grind and brew a bracing Italian roast from Starbucks. Add a dollop of whipped cream and it’s almost like my dad’s.
Soon, city folk will proudly hold their heads up through high-necked sweaters to meet the cold raindrops. Walking around in the rain while never utilizing the protection of an umbrella is a local phenomenon I’ll never quite understand. I don’t like to be wet. Taking a long shower or anticipating a soak in the tub isn’t ever high on my list.
City life, in all its buzz and busyness, continues, of course. It’s just darker, wetter, and perhaps more deliberate with less joviality tossed around. Summertime used to be my favorite season, and I’m still very fond of it because I get to wear thin cotton t-shirts, shorts and flip-flops. But, as I get a little older, I like moving inside more as the temperature falls, where I feel insulated from so much randomness on our streets.
November, for me, is a welcome retreat, a time for quiet assessment, an opportunity to reshuffle scattered priorities. I also get to spend more time with my husband because the weather often forces us inside, our little Sophie curled tightly against either of us for warmth. She switches from one to the other through the evening. It’s comforting, tame, peaceful. Everything slows down. We can all fully exhale.
Running Through the Pacific Northwest | Charly Tate
MARK JACOBS, REALTOR®