Friday, October 10, 2014
I've never been to Michigan in the fall. We usually go at Christmas, when people have started keeping count of how many days it's been since they've seen the sun, and we went once in May, which can be a tricky month--weather-wise.
But this visit, the weather gods were all, Valerie, we feel you've suffered enough. Here's a softball, and gave me the most lovely fall weekend. I walked around James's childhood neighborhood, and was filled with a sense of well-being. The mild air (not freezing!), the sunlight filtering through the trees (sunlight! leaves to filter sunlight through!), the surprisingly good tacos . . . it was nearly magical.
Michigan is a funny place for me. Because I've been so infrequently, my memories there are less memories and more like a collection of snapshots: the cold May with the hard, bright sunshine when we came for our open house, eight months after we were married; the Christmas we spent in the basement watching Antiques Roadshow; my favorite movie theatre where you can fill (and butter) your own bucket of popcorn where we took Edie as a baby and James held her through a showing of Sherlock Holmes; and the frigid New Years we spent ridding the Holly Jolly Trolley and I thought my feet would freeze off,
This one, with it's perfect mildness, was new, and I'm glad to slip it into the pile.