It’s 72 degrees. On November 1. In Iowa. Can you believe it?

Even though I have plenty of writing to do, I’m dawdling. I’ve been out for a walk. Out taking pictures. Out laying on the grass, looking at the sky. Even though I’m writing at this moment, my eyes are drawn to the sunshine with every other word. I know I’ll be outside again shortly. I’m holding on to these beautiful fall days as long and as tightly as I can.

I’m like the trees. Though the ash trees dropped their leaves weeks ago, the maple trees are hanging on to their finery longer than normal. They’ve joined the oak trees in clinging until the last possible moment. Even the strong winds of the past several days have failed to make the trees loosen their grip on stunning yellow and red leaves.

In a last tribute to summer, the coneflowers are hanging on, too. I found these blooms near the patio. Their purple as fresh as though it was June instead of November. 

The snowstorms that hit the east coast this past week remind me of past October snowstorms in Iowa. Storms that dropped heavy wet snow on trees still sporting leaves, causing limbs to bow, and break, under the weight.  I’m glad that’s not Iowa this year.

I’m grateful mother nature is letting us hold on to summer for one more day. And believe me, I’m holding on tight, savoring the gift of the rare 70-degree day in November.