You can usually spot a tourist in the summer in San Francisco because they are wearing a tank top or cute little summer dress, trying to look carefree and happy on their vacation but in reality the tell tale blue lips, shivering and visible goosebumps indicate they are really freezing. Misled by the phrase “sunny California” and the fact that most TV shows and movies are set in LA and not Northern California, they don’t pack for the often foggy and chilly microclimates of the Bay Area. I made that mistake the first time I visited despite being warned numerous times by K. The light cardigan I packed was not sufficient layering and I spent most of the week wrapped up in a very large sweatshirt purchased at the Golden Gate Bridge gift shop. Ask most people what month is the best (meaning warmest) month to visit San Francisco and they will generally reply October.
I was extrememly disappointed with the onset of autumn when we first moved out here . It just didn’t really seem to happen. We’d get that Indian summer thing and then the cold rains. My favorite season back east had been fall–I missed the changing of the leaves and the crisp, clear days leading up to winter. I don’t know if my expectations have changed, perhaps I am just better at perceiving the more subtle changes here or perhaps this is one positive outcome from global warming, but the trend has been different of late. It certainly helps that we live in Oakland which is a good ten degrees warmer than many of the neighborhoods in SF, but it seems that over the last couple of years the summers have been warmer, the winters a bit colder, and fall has actually existed albeit in miniature form.
I know this is true for at least the last two years because this time last year we were gearing up for Jack’s arrival. Well, gearing up isn’t really the right phrase…the nursery having been long since set up and nine plus months being a LONG time to wait for anything in my impatient opinion…we were anxiously awaiting his arrival. Jack’s due date being November 4, I was hell bent on him arriving sooner rather than later. He eventually proved more stubborn than I in that battle, but meanwhile the “labor walks” were in full force.
I distinctly remember walking through the neighborhood and discovering trees I had never noticed before with changing foliage. I am pretty sure I even commented on how happy it made me feel to Kieran…in between grumbles about backaches and swollen feet. I also recall Shisomama commenting that she was kind of jealous of us being in the anticipation phase. I thought she had completely lost her mind. After all, I was uncomfy and anxious and she had her wonderful little Otis with his quick smile and squirmy goodness sitting next to her.
Jack and I take a good number of walks these days and as we stroll along, the leaves crunching underfoot, the smell of the first fires of the season in the air, I am transported back to last year. And when we pass a soon to be mama with her bulging belly, I get what Shisomama was saying to me. I don’t want to go back. I am thrilled with my little bit of squirmy goodness, but that moment of anticipation, of the possibility, of the unknown was so exciting and so unique. I am sure I will get an inkling of it if and when we have another child, but it won’t be quite the same. It won’t ever be the first time again.
I’m glad Jack is an Autumn baby. In addition to the changing trees, comfort foods, pumpkin patches, anticipation of Thanksgiving, I have another reason to celebrate this time of year… plus he really looks good in fall colors. 
Here is a picture of him in the pumpkin patch.
