Intimations of Fall, Preparations for Winter

Rain, finally. Yesterday it rained a good part of the day, afterwards putting clouds of condensing moisture in the air and mostly clearing it of smoke. This morning we hear no fire-fighting helicopters. The sky's partially cloudy, alternately sunny, the temperature comfortably cool. One feels fall's intimations.

A couple of days ago my wife, whose Spanish is adequate to the task (mine isn't), arranged by phone to rent our favored place in Yelapa, on Mexico's west coast, for what will be our fourth winter stay there. Last night, via Expedia, I booked our flights to and from Puerto Vallarta. We'll fly there December 12, spend that night in Vallarta, and next day take a water taxi the 22 miles down the coast to Yelapa, where we'll settle in for another three-month stay. We're scheduled to fly home from Vallarta on March 19, which means our stay will be closer to three and a half months. I hope to get some writing done while there.

We look forward to a Mexican Christmas, something we haven't expererienced since our winter in Oaxaca, 38 years ago. Look forward to meeting the friends we've made down there, some of them permanent residents, most winter escapees like ourselves.

Our son, his ex-partner and their six-year-old daughter, our only grandchild, will fly down for a two-week stay with us in December. We'll miss our daughter, who'll be in Victoria, enrolled in the music program at the University of Victoria -- she went down with us last year for two weeks -- and probably won't see her until she and her boyfriend come back to Nelson for a visit next summer. We might, however, make the nearly 500-mile trip to Victoria to see them before we leave for Mexico.

Meanwhile, my son and I have the next three months to fill our woodshed for winter. We heat with wood, and though we'll be far away in the south this winter, our son will be here, staying in and looking after our house.

Just heard a helicopter fly by. So summer's fires are still burning. . . .