Beginning to Fall

It's taken a couple of weeks, but it finally feels like fall to me. It's been gray and rainy all day here. The heater's kicking on in the night. I'm wearing tights and boots and sweaters again. There will surely be days where the temps reach into the 90s again, but two weeks into October it's time to admit summer is really gone, fall is truly here.

I'm a summer girl, I love the warm weather and long days. I'm happiest in shorts and sandals, eating fresh watermelon and staying out all hours, walking barefoot on warm sidewalks in the middle of the night. Fall does have its high points, too, like the clothes, the clear skies, the changing leaves. Fall also has "North."

Six years ago, Elvis Costello released "North," a beautiful, cinematic album about losing and finding love. The album came out in October and sounds like fall to me, the songs uncertain, subdued, hopeful, transitional. I will listen to it randomly throughout the year, but always when fall finally kicks in. For me, fall doesn't start without "North."



I've lost count of how many listens I've given "North" today, but it's been on repeat all afternoon. It's helped transport me away from my desk, away from the folders I'm editing, away from the traffic jams I'm sure to face tonight, and taken me into a classic movie where the fast-talking dame finally meets her match, the music urging her toward the dashing man in the dinner jacket who she thought was oh-so-wrong but, at this moment, may be oh-so-right.

I first discovered Elvis Costello when "Veronica" was being played on VH1. The first CD I bought was "Painted From Memory," his collaboration with Burt Bacharach. I adored the way he wrote and, most of all, the way he sang. From there, I got his greatest hits and have moved back and forth through his catalog, picking up his new releases and reissues with the same enthusiasm. I've enjoyed his evolution, his experiments, his collaborations and, always, always, his voice.

Just a few more listens of "North" and it will be quitting time. I'll button up my sweater and grab my umbrella, then hope the rain isn't too bad, the roads not too slick, the other drivers not too thrown by the changed season.