It was 35 when I woke up this morning, a temperature that I associate far more with winter than with fall. It’s too early, I want to shout from the rooftops, knowing of course, that the weather gods will ignore me. 

But maybe I should not go gently into that (not) good night. Maybe I should be a weather denier, one who strolls through gales in shirt sleeves and shorts. 

Unfortunately, I’m just the opposite. Right now I’m wearing two layers of wool and one of cotton, and my warmest stretchy pants. One of my sweaters has a hood. I’m feeling a bit bulky … but almost warm. 

(Looking at last week’s beach shots to warm myself up.)