I say in jest that I moved south for the warmer climate. People look at me funny and wonder aloud if I meant to go to Florida. No, thank you, been there, and I remember fire ants and scorpions from my toddler days when Dad was stationed at Homestead. No, I really do mean that Southern Ohio is south. South of New Hampshire, of Alaska, and even, looking at a globe, south of Oregon where my grandmother and great-grandmother lived on the coast. Oregon at this time of year is a place of rain. Lots of rain, and for a change, fog. But at least not snow.
Dad tells me NH has had snow already. I think it was last year I took my kids trick-or-treating in 6 inches of snow… but here in Ohio, I can pull in the last of my tomatoes as the frost has just started to kill the plants, roses are still blooming, and after class yesterday I captured a butterfly dancing over the grass before settling on a dandelion only slightly brighter yellow than his wings. Oh, yes, I can say I moved south.
