December winds

I've been talking about the seasons changing for weeks now, partly because it's that time of year and partly because I really want them to.

October wasn't as obnoxiously non-stop rainy as it sometimes is, but it hung on and on and on into November, with me all perky and reassuring, making non-conversation with strangers about how "we're just about there," and "not long now."

And it eventually did change, but slowly. There's been less and less rain, and more and more wind. And last night we had our first real December night, where the wind blows with such determination and such fierce gusts that you lie there in bed wondering if something is, in fact, wrong out there.

The wind has kept up all morning too, so even though the sun hasn't so much as peeked out, the low-lying haze or mist has been all reconfigured, making mountains in the distance look more intensely blue, almost purple.

Driving home from the gym today, I turned east and suddenly saw the Irazu volcano ahead of me, thrown into startling relief by the clouds hanging in unaccustomed folds on its slopes.

It was so moody and intense, so rugged and brooding and smoldering that I swear I almost gave it my number.