And just like that, the week is almost over. Almost.
I spent last Saturday wandering the Jardin des Plantes. And I think for a few days, Paris forgot that summer was over. Temperatures were almost summer like, families were having picnics on the grass, and so many people were out strolling around the gorgeous flowers that somehow were still in bloom. It felt more like late August than the middle of October. And I didn't hate it, as much as I love fall weather. It was a welcome change and the last scrap of summer we will probably see until next year.
Flash forward a week, and I'm walking out of the house wrapped in an almost winter coat and scarf the size of a picnic blanket. I'm the first to embrace crisp temperatures and grey skies, but a small part of me hopes the weather people are wrong, and we might get another Indian summer weekend again.