Today the weather was amazing for any month, let alone November. The sun shone in a clear blue sky over trees of gold and scarlet, and the temperature reached 77 degrees. I mentioned a while back that my writer’s group has been meeting outside, since the pandemic has made our accustomed cafes unsafe. I’d posted about our weekly meetings in my own backyard. But I don’t remember if I mentioned that we actually meet not once but twice a week. The other meeting takes place, for now, on the grounds of a public library branch.
Four of us were there today. We brought our camp chairs and laptops or paper notebooks, and spent an hour or two writing together (while masked and more than six feet apart). I had planned to work on the science-fiction novel outline that I should have finished by now. But it’s on my computer, and with a laptop that won’t hold a charge for long, and nowhere to plug it in on the grounds of the library, I brought a journal to write in instead. It was great to see people; I’ve been feeling so isolated. And, of course, the gorgeous day was a plus.
We’ve been treated to this warm, lovely weather since late October, and it’s been glorious. Even my confused azaleas are in bloom again. I remember working outside the polls on many Election Days, shivering in a winter coat. This time, I cast off my sweater and enjoyed the summer’s encore. Unfortunately, it ends soon. Tomorrow we’re supposed to have torrential rains. And inevitably, the weather will turn cold. After all, as the Starks tell us, Winter Is Coming.
Have I mentioned that I really hate cold weather?
Gatherings like today’s writer’s group meetup at the library will soon have to end for the season. We might be able to go a few weeks longer in my backyard, if we light a fire in the firepit.