The Color of Witches Tights

My husband made the announcement that the Wicked Witch of the West wore purple tights.  All witches, actually, wear purple tights according to him.  Or maybe striped.  But usually purple.

Was it a coincidence that today was the first day it was cold enough that I changed out of my all summer wardrobe and was wearing purple tights?

Hmm....

I wonder what he will say tomorrow when I pull on a pair of green ones?  Green seems more witchy to me!

First Day Of Fall

We have been blessed with a wonderful warm summer, the second warmest on record, with 40 days of summertime being over 80 degrees.  In the Pacific Northwest, that is a big deal.

I'm not one of those people who complained that it was too hot.  I love the heat.  I love all the windows open at night, the hum of box fans bringing in fresh air, the need for meals that do not require cooking and the music of the ice cream truck cruising the neighborhood.

I look at Fall with trepidation.  I like it once I'm in it, but I tend to cling to the last few days of summer with all my strength, wearing sandals and leaving jackets at home.

Then the first day of fall hit, and it hit hard.  It was like a switch was flipped off and the sun went away; gray skies came and brought so much rain.  Everything is wet, the puddles in the driveway are turning into lakes and the gardening I need to do, the tucking in of the beds for the winter will be hampered by my lack of desire to go outside in this chilly mess.

And of course, the snails are out in force.  There is nowhere to turn without almost stepping on these little critters.  All over the steps, all over the porch, all over the flowers I was going to cut back.

Ah, fall.  Thanks for quitting summer quickly!

This post inspired by prompt #1 at Mama's Losin' It!

Where There Is Hope

One of the first things my daughter said to me this morning is, "It is 9/11 today."

And I replied, "I was just going to say the same thing to you."

While many of the kids at her school will go through today like it is just any other day, there are the children like my daughter who will not forget what happened, who will remember details of the day that changed their lives.

I am not alone in thinking of this day thirteen years ago; I know so many other people are recounting where they were when they heard the news; they will recall with vivid clarity the sorrow and horror that the day brought; it might be 13 years but there are some things that never really go away.  We all move forward, we can't help it.  Life keeps going and one day we realize that we are rising from our pit of grief and taking a few steps towards a hopeful sun rise.

My thoughts today are sad, but I am grateful that I still find hope.  For where there is hope, there is strength to go on.  That sun rise is beckoning a new day.