My daughter Laura, who lives in the south has been hit with thunderstorms and rain all summer.  Last night a Category 4 hurricane hit land not far from where she lives.  By comparison, my daughters, Sarah and Gracie, live in the Pacific Northwest and they are experiencing a record breaking number of days without rain, weeks of temperatures in the 80’s and 90’s.

In my little corner of the world, though, it feels like fall.  Drizzly days and dropping temperatures.  And that is OK with me.  I love the fall.  I love the colors.  I love the crispness of the air.  I love harvesty foods like apples, squashes and thick stews. I welcome Starbuck’s Pumpkin Spice Latte. I like cozy sweaters and puffy down coats.  We hold our breath when the fireweed shows us with her last blossom, knowing the first snowfall will soon dust the tops of the mountains.

That is part of the reason I became a teacher, I LOVE the ritual that dignifies the beginning of the school year. I get as excited as the kids.  Just like the kids I get a new outfit or two, buy my sturdy “teacher shoes.” I dig out my lunch box, plan what I will wear on the first day of school and I am set.

Laura, in her home in New Orleans will not experience the fall like we will.  She is battling the flooding that comes from a hurricane and she is always close in my thoughts.  And kids in the Pacific Northwest will wear flip-flops and shorts to school because their classroom does not have AC, and why would you?  It is the Pacific Northwest.  But not us.  Here on our little Island we will wear the sweaters, pack soup in our thermos and the kids will wear raincoats because it will be a little drizzly, and a little cold and that is OK.