Autumn behaved itself that year, arriving right on time, just at the end of September, bringing T-shirt-warm days and sweater-cool nights, perfect for snuggling in a sleeping bag with someone on the beach, staring up at a star-studded night sky.
Perfect weather for New Braunfel's Wurstfest, with a night breeze chilly enough to believe it came straight from the Alps.
Perfect weather for nights spent two-stepping in old dancehalls, like Gruene and Gilley's.
Perfect weather for the Renaissance Festival nestled in the tall trees near Magnolia, Texas, where cool mornings warmed up enough for wearing shorts but not hot enough for sweating in front of your new boyfriend.
That year, we went twice to the Renaissance Festival.
After the second trip, a day with such a glorious blue sky that every blue sky I've seen since reminded me of that one...a day where everything seemed to glow in a magical light, dreamlike, sparkling with life, he asked me to marry him.
Now I remember why I love autumn!
Happy 30th anniversary of that first autumn, Tom.
I still feel the magic!
