Today's weather report.

Because I am my father's daughter, I am going to talk about the weather. Again.

For all my whining about the many layers of clothing I've had to add to my frame each night, the way my feet don't quite warm up all day, or how my scarf is forever strewn across my shoulders, the weather in the past three days has been hen hao (very good)!! I am excited each day to jump on my bike and seek out escapades. OK. I'm not that graceful on my bike. I am not yet skilled in the way of the forward motion glide and then the quick hop onto the bike, like all the old ladies in the neighborhood have mastered. I've got down the dismount. I've been using those hand breaks. Still, as thoroughly awkward as I am as I start up my engine, I am upright, forward moving and happy to be peddling along, at any rate. 

So, back to the weather. Since I last wrote, the days have been full of sunshine and cool breezes and changing leaves. Picture it - there I am, peddling along Gongti Xilu (our street, across from Worker's Stadium - a sports arena that houses the city's soccer team), waiving to friends, handing out "hellos" on my way to Mandarin class, smiling all the way. My neighbor, already outside entertaining his infant grandson who is balanced on his hip, asks me how I'm doing. I give little teng teng (that's the baby's name) a pinch on his chubby pink cheeks, and tell grandpa, "wo hen hao!" I stop at the corner of my building and bend over to embrace a golden retriever puppy that runs into my arms. The street is lined with soccer fans for the afternoon game, donning their favorite team's colors, echos of chants in unison reverberate from inside the stadium. The man on the corner sells baked yams; their sweet smell wafting from the hot steel drum that cooks them to perfection. I get back on my bike and cheerfully peddle away, dodging the crowd...Back it up. In my imagination the leaves are changing into the deep ambers, cozy reds and warm yellows of the fall. Oh, yeah. And all that other stuff, too, with the exception of me on my bike smiling, where we live, the soccer fans, baked yams, meeting teng teng and the stopping to pet a dog. I'm still a stranger in my neighborhood, so when I say "ni hao," it's usually just directed to the doormen lulling around. I don't waive to anyone on my bike; I'm just beginning to work up the nerve to take one hand off the handlebars. teng teng has not let me pinch his cheeks, and grandpa does not ask me how I am doing. 

It must be the faint hint of a New Jersey autumn traveling 7,000 miles over the currents to Beijing that lets my imagination run off course. Forgive me; it must be all the pumpkin picking, hot apple cider drinking and hay ride riding with my nephew I am missing that lets me wander into half truths about my autumnal Beijing days.

I have heard Beijingers joke that this city has two season: winter and summer. For a fleeting moment I wanted to share with you what Beijing can feel like in autumn. It can feel familiar. It can feel like a warm oven heating the house with the smells of baking cookies. It can feel like a little black soft puppy curled up on your lap. It can feel like winning baseball games. It can feel like crunching dried leaves. It can feel like hugs from babies. It can feel like the sweet, sticky, toothy bite of a caramel apple. It can feel like burning embers in the fireplace. It can feel like the mixed angst and reward of a new school year. It can feel like socks straight from the dryer and onto your feet. It can feel like seeing old friends. It can feel like home.

Now, back to the weather...