The temperature is supposed to drop another seven degrees tomorrow, and tomorrow night will drop pretty close to freezing, but then it will warm up again pretty fast. Still, it won't be getting out of the fifties or low sixties for the foreseeable future— unless the forecast changes, of course, which this time of year it is very likely to do.
Right now the rain is still falling, and the air smells of wet pine and grass. On of the feral cats is sleeping in the cupboard on the back porch, and the other is sleeping on the counter next to the sink. Staying out of the rain is obviously a priority for them. It's a priority for me, too, these days, but I can remember when I would revel in walking in the rain. How annoyingly irritable aging has made me.