20181115.0430

We've had a bit of what we let pass for winter in the Texas Hill Country these past few days; in many other places, they'd be nice fall days, while in still others, folks might think about wearing shorts and shirt-sleeves outside. It's been nice to have the change, to be sure; I've long held that cooler weather helps keep the stink down, and I am not alone in noting a greater propensity to be physically close to people when the temperature drops.
The weather around here looks like it's going to hold for at least a few days, getting slightly warmer before more rain is supposed to come back through. I look forward to it, actually, because 1) I need to mow my yard and 2) cooler temperatures makes it easier to do the work. I've got a yard large enough that a riding mower makes sense for it--but no riding mower. It's normally a sweaty two-hour workout to take care of the thing; the lower temperature will help keep my stink down as I see to it this time around. Provided the rain doesn't come in earlier than expected. Which it might. It's done so often enough before--including each of the last few times I've thought I might have time to mow my yard.
There has been a lot of rain in the past couple of months. It's been good, overall, though having so much of it come so quickly as did a couple of times has had less-desirable effects. (The Kinglsand bridge is only the most prominent example. Cleanup is still going on in parts of my hometown, in fact, with debris that gathered along low bridges only now getting cleared away.) The general wetness has helped us to have something resembling fall foliage in the area, which is a rare treat. Most years see the greenery brown in July and August and not greening up again in time to fade into reds and yellows. This year, though, has seen the trees show colors other than fading green and crackling brown. Ms. 8 has been particularly delighted to see them, and I am happy to see her happy.
With more wet weather wending its way to where I am, I expect that the upcoming year will be a good one for wildflowers. I already know I'm going to be driving to San Antonio a fair bit through the spring, so I am eager to once again ride the twinned asphalt ribbons of Interstate 10 as it makes its way through oak-, cedar-, and mesquite-clad hills of limestone, surrounded by streams of bright blue and red and yellow that blend into the sunset and sunrise so that the sky seems to be beneath as well as above and the beauty of it enters the eyes and lifts the spirit such that waxing poetic is an insufficient response to the whole of it. I am likely to try to do it anyway; insufficient as it is, it is still better a response than most any other I could offer it.