Late September, Woodland Park

When I'm the one to walk the dog in the afternoon, I always like to take her around the little path along the fence that rings the zoo, where we can catch a glimpse of the elephants. I'm not sure why. We never get much of a view, and it is generally the same – a bit of massive ear, or shoulder, or rear. And I am not thrilled about the theory of zoos with their too-small enclosures, exposed by design. Can the elephants be happy? But I like to see them anyway. It's reassuring, maybe, and always feels a little like I'm getting away with something: free elephants! Today they were out of sight.

It's nice to get back to the park after a few days away – although I realize as I write this that it's been longer than that: I haven't taken L for her afternoon constitutional since before our week-long East Coast romp. Can that be? What was I doing on Friday, I wonder?

On the other side of the city (Capitol Hill): http://www.flickr.com/photos/knoopie/3963019765/

E's parents asked when they were here the week before that whether the leaves change in Seattle, in the fall. I couldn't remember what that looks like here, or what the timing is like, although this will be our third. It seems incredible how quickly it has gone; another year and I will have been here as long as I was in New York, which is as long as I've been anywhere uninterrupted. (Cambridge/Somerville has a claim on 5 years, but split into three chunks, not counting summers away.)

So today I tried to notice: there are yellowed and dry brown leaves scattered all across the sidewalks and the grass. Most of the trees just look brushed with yellow – one tall one aflame with red all down one side – not yet consumed with that color. Not just the pines and needled shrubs, but many of the other trees are still fully green. It hasn't been raining. But the cool air and the wind feel like fall. I feel ready for orange piles of pumpkins at the store and the smell of fires.

db in Volunteer Park: http://www.flickr.com/photos/wesbran/3961264931/in/photostream/

It's impossible to resist the change of seasons as a metaphor for aging. Yesterday I went to the Decibel Festival event in the park, on my own, because E doesn't like thumpy electronic music and I don't seem to know or meet anyone else who does anymore. The time when I went dancing every week, sometimes multiple times, is two moves and the better part of a decade behind me in San Francisco. I still love it so much – it's the simplest, most fail-safe way I know to find bliss, outside of a pill – but going out to late night DJs just isn't a good fit with my life anymore. I need to sleep a lot, and it's a real effort to stay up. In Seattle you have to be a morning person to maximize your exposure to the sun through the long dark winters. It was sad not to have people to share this annual event with, although I felt the same good feeling just moving by myself, with a handful and then several handfuls of other dancers down in front of the small stage. It was a warm afternoon, the perfect setting.