Reflections on the Seventh Week of Fall

      During a week dominated by bright blue skies and sunshine, the phrase, this isn't November weather, looped through my mind. We had three seventy degree days in a row. In Meadville, coeds wore short shorts, and red roses bloomed in a friend's yard. At Wells Wood, a bare chested farmer drove his pickup past the log house, maturing pea pods hung on straggler plants, and pansies flowered on the deck. Spence trundled around the garden on his Mahindra–making new compost piles with shredded leaves, mulching the onion patch, planting kale and bok choy. 

      He also paddled the kayak with me on Lake Wilhelm. Warm water splashed my bare shins. Blue jays, quails, and hawks called, but migrating cormorants, osprey, and great blue herring were absent. A flotilla of oak leaves floated on glistening ripples. Low water exposed tops of snags. We returned to the launch site as a kayak approached from the other end of the lake. Spence secured the kayak to the truck. I loaded paddles and life jackets. Dressed in camouflage shorts, the chestnut haired paddler, landed, raised his arms to the sun, and said, “Can you believe this is November?” 

     I did the math to check if the weather was measurably warmer.

First Week of November	Range	Average
2014	Low 40s – High 60s	Low 50s
2015	Low 50s – High 70s	High 60s

Was this change just a fluke or a sign of climate to come?