The runners threaded through the blueberry barrens aflame with the colors that autumn brings while the crowds gathered on the edge of the field to cheer the participants. Some were bundled for the brisk air while others ran in shorts and tank tops, cheeks rosy. I think the chill took everyone by surprise this afternoon, although it shouldn't-it is nearly November. My winter clothes are still folded neatly in some plastic tub somewhere. The weather in Maine has been unseasonably warm, until today. For weeks now I have pieced together a wardrobe rotating two skirts and a few tops with a jean jacket to cover my bare arms in case it turns cooler. As much as I like summer, there is something comforting about scratchy wool sweaters that require layers beneath, thick cozy socks and scarves-how I love my scarves! With the change of seasons, I get this impatient itchiness to slow down, yet I still race from meeting to meeting and appointment to appointment-waiting for hibernation. There are stacks of books to be read by the warmth of the fire, knitting projects to contemplate and crusty, yeasty breads to slide out of the oven. I will be ready for fall as soon as I find that tub of cold weather pants, tops and sweaters. For now, my wardrobe will consist of layers of summer. Right now, I'm in a holding pattern while everything around me changes.
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