It's that time of year again. That time where the sun comes up a little later and goes down a little earlier. Where the sky is sharp, bright, and blue. Where the sun, reflecting off the water of the Potomac, adds a little dazzle and shine to this small town.
If you live in the Bay Area, it's that time of year where the fog isn't as dense and the temperatures in the city are warming up, while in the suburbs, they're cooling down. If you live in Wyoming, the blue sky is bluer and the morning air is sharper.
It's that time of year where the weatherman (or woman) includes a "fall colors" forecast, letting you know where the foilage is exploding into a rainbow of warmth and color from the northern reaches of Maine to the southern tips of the Carolinas.
This is the time of year where you break out all of those comforting recipes for soups and breads that your grandmother and mother used to make. For good measure, you look at your sweater inventory and welcome the opportunity for a change in the wardrobe you've become bored with at the end of a long, hot, sultry summer.
Ah, fall. Would that the temperatures always hovered around 75 degrees with low humidity the whole year through. I suppose if I want that, though, I should think about moving back to San Francisco....