I've been holed up in and around Bangor for several days now getting a few big band arrangements out the door, so I'm not exactly sure when it happened, but the unmistakable crisp of autumn has definitely arrived up here.
Days in the 60s and 70s, nights in the 40s – summer fades at last, and thanks to the round rubber things underneath my spaceship, dialing in those kinds of temperatures should be a relative snap over the next seven or eight months. What's a nomad's favorite season? Non-summer.
South soon, as I want to be back in New Jersey in a few weeks for one more stretch with the family before the long journey back west begins. First though, another week or so of early non-summer here in Maine, and with a bit of deftness, I'll then shadow its slow crawl down the coast.