They tell me it's fall in the Northwest. Trees still bear their leaves, the air stings a tad when biking, people started putting pumpkin in their lattes, I overheard a sibling debate 'tween the merits of a Power Ranger costume versus Disney's Belle--but I find myself longing for North Georgia's October. Here, we have none of that evening autumnal glow, no richness in the air as the cooler temperatures release smells heretofore masked in a summer haze, fiery foliage, sweet relief from oppressive heat. We lack the temperature contrast. Ben and I met relief from heat oppression upon arrival in August. There's nowhere to go from there.
Makes me wonder if I owe a piece of my fall adoration to my disdain for Georgia summer.
So, not much of a fall. But what they lack in October glory they pour into their coffee and beers (...excepting the lack of pumpkin beer for which I never can forgive the state. Seriously? Doesn't someone sell a respectable brew in honor of squash's robust cousin? I need Shipyard, dog'on it!) They're quite proud of these. And it's no wonder! With all the rain we're driven to teapot, press, and stein to lift our spirits and make our taste buds dance.
Rain appeals to me, though. It's a good thing; for our ten-day forecast reveals nothing but sprinkly days with bright spots between. Never have I consumed tea with such fervor. Portlanders walk about indifferent to this constant dripping. Most of them seem averse to the concept of an umbrella, preferring to shove their hands deep in their pockets and keep their beanie bedecked heads low. Light waterproof jackets and Doc Martins are the thing. Sometimes goulashes. Bumbershoots are for the out of towners--a funny stigma since everyone in Portland is a transplant. Besides the two true locals I've encountered, this is not an exaggeration.
This is Department of Eagles weather. Weepies. Wilco.
I'll like it all the better when I can meet a friend in it. This much tea consumption requires a partner.