We're Not in So. Cal. Anymore, MooMoo!

I'm not sure when fall arrived. I had been watching for it, looking for any sign. Then, somewhere in the space of a week or two, autumn crept in when I grew too tired of straining to keep my vigil. Now the trees are draped in colors of flame and a few have even shed their leaves altogether in favor of their simple, unassuming winter simplicity. The grass is settling down for a nap under the crunchy blanket of oranges and browns. The stream has turned into a leaf-strewn ribbon of glass, and the water level has stopped rising and falling, as if preparing to be frozen in place. At night a genuine chill falls, and we curl up on the love-seat to watch a movie or read before the warmth of our modest fireplace.

This weekend we took some time out to picnic at a public park in Raleigh. We rented a pedal-boat and floated on the lake for a little under an hour, marveling at the deepening colors of the foliage as the gilded sun began its slow descent behind the tree line. We shared the our lake-side lunch with geese, ducks and coots, and the lake itself with a blue heron, a few people in small fishing boats and one other couple in a pedal boat. It was beautiful, solitary, cool and peaceful.

California is beautiful, there's no question about that, but I, for one, am reveling in a different sort of beauty here in my own backyard. No, MooMoo... we're not in So Cal anymore.