Missing that Certain Slant of Light

When Mike and Emily were living in San Francisco they pointed out the frustrating lack of seasons in the land of fog. The seasons are subtle in San Franciso, but they exist: the light changes and there are pumpkins in the stores. In Portland, Oregon, like the east coast, autumn is in your face. Leaves FILLING the streets, the trees blazing with color, and it starts to get cold–our first year there Camille had to wear a sweater (a kid’s cashmere sweater! I had bought it used at the Town School for Boys store on Sactamento Street in San Francisco) under her Halloween costume.

Here there is nothing, season-wise. The land that time forgot. It’s still summer. I head out the door for my little trot around the stadium at 9:15 am and say to myself, wow, it’s 90 degrees. Stefan wants to be a tiger or an elephant for Halloween, and I’m afraid any costume like that will be too hot. The trees are same, the lizards are the same. In Portland, spider webs suddenly appear, like the spiders got the memo about Halloween.

They do have pumpkins here, they are big and green. Unlike the Leshers, Elisabeth’s parents who lived in Cameroon, we won’t get to make a calabash-jack-o-lantern that lasts 40 years.