Last week, Seattle sweated through an 80 degree day–not something we have to do often. Three days later, we looked out on grey horizons, at that point where the slate sky meets the silver waters, through a screen of incessant raindrops. The rain was typical Seattle–not hard enough to get your shirt wet, but leaving puddles and clumps of fragrant leaves strewn about. It smelled like fall. The season was here and it had a woodsy aroma–smokey, yet fresh. Cuddled into a cowl neck sweater, my mind wandered to the wonders of fall foods. Like a kid picking pumpkins...
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