Mom calls November the “in-between” month. Not quite winter. Not really full fall. Lots of trees have dumped their leaves. Temperatures are dropping. But not low enough for snow. Here on the Olympic Peninsula, the rains return. And return. And return.
When the weather turns wet, Mom insists on dragging out The Dreaded Orange Raincoat. Why does she do this? Is she averse to getting soaked to the collar, crashing through every puddle in sight, or galumphing around town up to her nose in rain water?
Me, I’m fine with all of the above. (I am part Lab, you know. As in water dog.)
Anyway, did I mention they closed the book place awhile back? For “renovations.” About a million dollars worth. I don’t know what that means. Can you eat it?
But it means we haven’t been able to walk over to the library lately. One of us really hates that.
Good news: The book place is supposed to re-open in about a week or so.
So you might call November the “in between month” for reasons not related to weather. Or seasons. It’s in between closures and re-openings of a favorite place in town.
At least for one of us.
The other just wants to shed her stupid rain coat.