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ChillyOctober 11, 2009 It's past dark these days when I get back from the barn, and there's no light anywhere near my outdoor shower, so I've been leaving showers till the morning. Not every morning, need I say: even if you hang out with horses and dogs, the shower compulsion diminishes in cool weather. Fortunately, perhaps, for personal hygiene and my human contacts, the hair-washing compulsion comes to the fore every three days or so, and since the easiest way to wash my hair is to take a shower . . . So this morning, while Travvy was snarfing his breakfast and after brushing my teeth, I ventured out in my knee-length T shirt to take a shower. I knew it was chilly before I noted that the shampoo had turned from a translucent almost-royal blue to the paler, opaque blue often called "ice blue." Now I understand why. The water was warm, but steam billowed upward and I wasted no time toweling my hair and the rest of my self. (Editor's note: Hmm. That could mean that I didn't bother to dry myself off or that I did it double-quick. I can't come up with a satisfactory, less ambiguous alternative at the moment, so I'll add that I mean the latter. If I meant the former, I'd probably say "I didn't waste any time toweling my hair," but that's not entirely clear either.) Then I jogged up the stairs to my deck. I squatted down to look at the thermometer, whose mercury has grown so pale that it's hard to read, but I squinted and double-checked: it said 32 degrees F / 0 degrees C. There was frost on the trail at Misty Meadows, near the little parking area. Not a hard frost, but frost. Trav and I didn't walk all the way around the field because we were running late and, it being sunny and a little breezy, I wanted to do laundry. Now the laundry on the line testifies to the turning of the season as well as the shampoo, the thermometer, or my Rinnai heater, which came on this morning even though it's still set to Low, meaning it doesn't come on till the indoor temperature gets down to 50 F. (When I looked, it was 52.) There are four pairs of denim cut-offs on the line, but none of the lightweight shorts I wear when it's hot. Regular-weight jeans are hanging out there for the first time since late spring, and two sweatshirts, one hooded, one not. No sweaters yet, and no turtlenecks (I considered donning one this morning but figured I'd have to change once the sun had risen a little higher). Several regular T-shirts, and three with long sleeves -- I'm wearing a fourth, the red one that says "I'd rather ride all day than dance all night." Fall really has come to New England. My laundry tells me so.
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