Nip Watch 2024

[WVR 830]

On 8/3/2024 at 3:42 PM, SaltyTiger said:

Same thing with me a few years ago. The only thing I can imagine was a spider. Itched like crazy forever. Yellow flys down on the coast same way. Take a red wasp sting over it any day. Hurts more initially but get over them quickly. Also have been bitten by a Cottonmouth. No fun at all.

I Hate snakes!!

[WarTim 3,529]

Felt a cool breeze early this morning. Yes, will be back in the 90s later today, BUT…..,.

[AUBwins 10,281]

51 minutes ago, WarTim said:

Felt a cool breeze early this morning. Yes, will be back in the 90s later today, BUT…..,.

I'm getting some 50s in Kentucky this weekend.  Like .. whoa!

[AUBwins 10,281]

Took the kids back to school today.  Our high schools start football season a couple of weeks earlier than Alabama, so it gets that feeling a little sooner.  Although kinda ticked the local high school only has 4 home games this year and I'm out of town for one of those. Sheesh.

[SaltyTiger 8,596]

1 hour ago, WarTim said:

Felt a cool breeze early this morning. Yes, will be back in the 90s later today, BUT…..,.

 

22 minutes ago, AUBwins said:

I'm getting some 50s in Kentucky this weekend.  Like .. whoa!

37 degrees in the beer cave at Village Market yesterday afternoon. 

[I_M4_AU 8,978]

 

 

[stoic-one 1,589]

[AUFAN78 4,161]

So ready. Just finished a screened-in addition adjacent to the pool. Added an 85-inch tv, sound bar and woofer. Bought an additional Yeti and a box of yellow flags. 

WDE!!!

[SaltyTiger 8,596]

1 hour ago, stoic-one said:

Scrolling, saw the hair and got happy. Scrolled further and disappointed. Anticipate another pic soon.

[stoic-one 1,589]

It's a "process"

 

[WarEagle1982 491]

64 degrees in Killen, AL this morning!  I know it won’t last, but it feels great and is an indicator of things to come.

[SaltyTiger 8,596]

18 minutes ago, WarEagle1982 said:

64 degrees in Killen, AL this morning!  I know it won’t last, but it feels great and is an indicator of things to come.

Felt a little nip in the air on the Plains very early this morning.

[WarEagle1982 491]

12 minutes ago, SaltyTiger said:

Felt a little nip in the air on the Plains very early this morning.

Nothing like it.  Like I said, I know it won’t last.  We play our preseason jamboree Thursday and it’s forecast to be 95 degrees!

[mustache eagle 2,454]

Heard the high school band practicing this week.

I’ve been consuming more Auburn football preseason info and recruiting than I have in numerous years and it’s gotten me interested.  Got our first game plans finalized.  Let’s bring it on!

[WarEagle1982 491]

1 hour ago, mustache eagle said:

Heard the high school band practicing this week.

I’ve been consuming more Auburn football preseason info and recruiting than I have in numerous years and it’s gotten me interested.  Got our first game plans finalized.  Let’s bring it on!

I’ve been trying to catch as much as possible.  Preseason practice and school classes starting back the past few days have had me EXHAUSTED!!!

[stoic-one 1,589]

[WVR 830]

Was in the mid 60’s this morning at Smith Lake.

[Auctoritas 2,913]

Pardon my submission. I never really write like this, but for some reason this thread always makes me want to. TL;DR myself.

We hear WarTim speak it every year, that the Nip isn't about the weather or coolness or anything else. But what I've come to realize over the past...gosh...more than a decade watching for it here along with you all: the Nip is about sense, and sensation. Our senses tell us things about the world, and sensation is the feeling we get when they do.

I walked out with my wife this morning as she was leaving for work, here in Atlanta, around 8:30am, just to see her off - a little morning ritual, something comforting for both of us, a callback to our nearly 5 years of long-distance dating before we got married where we'd stand and watch the other leave after the short weekends inevitably ended, and one or the other of us would roll down a window to let the fall air slide into the car as we waved as we headed back to school. I love you, I'll see you soon.

I stood there this morning watching her drive off, gently smiling while standing in a patch of slanted sunlight, golden as if it were poured from a poet's pen, and motion caught the corner of my eye. Across the way, a tulip poplar - always the first to have their prodigious leaves yellow and brown then plummet, like the first person at a campfire standing up and stretching and apologizing to everyone for the early night but they've got to go get comfortable and turn in for the long sleep ahead. I guess I took a step forward because all of a sudden I felt…cooler. And warmer. I stilled, and stood there and smiled with my cup in my hand, letting my inner Zen Buddhist come out, intent on enjoying the moment, soaking in the warmth and the coolness and the flash of color that tasted like Saturdays in late September. I stilled, and shivered, amid a low, soft hiss as a breeze ran its fingers through the leaves of the trees around me, leaves mostly green but already drying in the late summer heat, trees beginning to pack up like a snowbird preparing to move south for the winter, warm sunlit rooms full of dust and boxes at once industrious and languid. The rising and falling sound of the annual cicadas, reminding me at once of Augusts spent in the Alabama country a few weeks before school began and of the promise of shortening days and cooler weather, the smell of woodsmoke and the tang of early fall mornings.

I really love tulip poplars.

Sense, and sensation. I've always loved fall - I can't stand the dreary heat of midsummer, as interminable as it is muggy, air so hot and humid that you’ve got to be careful not to rub your hands hard together lest the atmosphere itself wring itself out like a sponge to wet the somehow-dry red clay at your feet. Fall, though, fall is cooler and dryer, yes, but there’s a feeling of change, of good things to come. Of holiday and family, of football and food. Of fading light and growing night, where houselights shine like beacons calling you to come inside. I believe in light. Fall and winter show us where home is.

It’s not fall, it’s not quite time yet, but this is the time of year where the heavy, unrelenting press of summer on your neck now feels like the comforting weight of a grandfather’s hand on your shoulders, gently reminding you that everything must come in its own time. I know that we’ve long weeks to go before the liminal period of rightness even begins and recedes all too soon into winter chill. I pulled the warm air around me like it was a good winter coat, and wandered inside, comforted.

It’s not time yet. But I’ve come to understand that there’s an invisible borderline, shifting year to year as the seasons of life change like the seasons of the year, a line where those things we sense – the cooler breeze, the whisper of a marching band floating over the trees that have just set the fuse on the upcoming fireworks of color alight, the smell of a cooking fire – start to become sensation. A feeling you get where amidst unrelenting summer you all of a sudden know that while it may not be time yet, soon it will be.

That’s the Nip.

 

[gr82be 14,935]

9 minutes ago, Auctoritas said:

Pardon my submission. I never really write like this, but for some reason this thread always makes me want to. TL;DR myself.

We hear WarTim speak it every year, that the Nip isn't about the weather or coolness or anything else. But what I've come to realize over the past...gosh...more than a decade watching for it here along with you all: the Nip is about sense, and sensation. Our senses tell us things about the world, and sensation is the feeling we get when they do.

I walked out with my wife this morning as she was leaving for work, here in Atlanta, around 8:30am, just to see her off - a little morning ritual, something comforting for both of us, a callback to our nearly 5 years of long-distance dating before we got married where we'd stand and watch the other leave after the short weekends inevitably ended, and one or the other of us would roll down a window to let the fall air slide into the car as we waved as we headed back to school. I love you, I'll see you soon.

I stood there this morning watching her drive off, gently smiling while standing in a patch of slanted sunlight, golden as if it were poured from a poet's pen, and motion caught the corner of my eye. Across the way, a tulip poplar - always the first to have their prodigious leaves yellow and brown then plummet, like the first person at a campfire standing up and stretching and apologizing to everyone for the early night but they've got to go get comfortable and turn in for the long sleep ahead. I guess I took a step forward because all of a sudden I felt…cooler. And warmer. I stilled, and stood there and smiled with my cup in my hand, letting my inner Zen Buddhist come out, intent on enjoying the moment, soaking in the warmth and the coolness and the flash of color that tasted like Saturdays in late September. I stilled, and shivered, amid a low, soft hiss as a breeze ran its fingers through the leaves of the trees around me, leaves mostly green but already drying in the late summer heat, trees beginning to pack up like a snowbird preparing to move south for the winter, warm sunlit rooms full of dust and boxes at once industrious and languid. The rising and falling sound of the annual cicadas, reminding me at once of Augusts spent in the Alabama country a few weeks before school began and of the promise of shortening days and cooler weather, the smell of woodsmoke and the tang of early fall mornings.

I really love tulip poplars.

 

 

Sense, and sensation. I've always loved fall - I can't stand the dreary heat of midsummer, as interminable as it is muggy, air so hot and humid that you’ve got to be careful not to rub your hands hard together lest the atmosphere itself wring itself out like a sponge to wet the somehow-dry red clay at your feet. Fall, though, fall is cooler and dryer, yes, but there’s a feeling of change, of good things to come. Of holiday and family, of football and food. Of fading light and growing night, where houselights shine like beacons calling you to come inside. I believe in light. Fall and winter show us where home is.

 

 

It’s not fall, it’s not quite time yet, but this is the time of year where the heavy, unrelenting press of summer on your neck now feels like the comforting weight of a grandfather’s hand on your shoulders, gently reminding you that everything must come in its own time. I know that we’ve long weeks to go before the liminal period of rightness even begins and recedes all too soon into winter chill. I pulled the warm air around me like it was a good winter coat, and wandered inside, comforted.

 

 

It’s not time yet. But I’ve come to understand that there’s an invisible borderline, shifting year to year as the seasons of life change like the seasons of the year, a line where those things we sense – the cooler breeze, the whisper of a marching band floating over the trees that have just set the fuse on the upcoming fireworks of color alight, the smell of a cooking fire – start to become sensation. A feeling you get where amidst unrelenting summer you all of a sudden know that while it may not be time yet, soon it will be.

That’s the Nip.

 

 

 

 

[WarTim 3,529]

3 hours ago, Auctoritas said:

Pardon my submission. I never really write like this, but for some reason this thread always makes me want to. TL;DR myself.

We hear WarTim speak it every year, that the Nip isn't about the weather or coolness or anything else. But what I've come to realize over the past...gosh...more than a decade watching for it here along with you all: the Nip is about sense, and sensation. Our senses tell us things about the world, and sensation is the feeling we get when they do.

I walked out with my wife this morning as she was leaving for work, here in Atlanta, around 8:30am, just to see her off - a little morning ritual, something comforting for both of us, a callback to our nearly 5 years of long-distance dating before we got married where we'd stand and watch the other leave after the short weekends inevitably ended, and one or the other of us would roll down a window to let the fall air slide into the car as we waved as we headed back to school. I love you, I'll see you soon.

I stood there this morning watching her drive off, gently smiling while standing in a patch of slanted sunlight, golden as if it were poured from a poet's pen, and motion caught the corner of my eye. Across the way, a tulip poplar - always the first to have their prodigious leaves yellow and brown then plummet, like the first person at a campfire standing up and stretching and apologizing to everyone for the early night but they've got to go get comfortable and turn in for the long sleep ahead. I guess I took a step forward because all of a sudden I felt…cooler. And warmer. I stilled, and stood there and smiled with my cup in my hand, letting my inner Zen Buddhist come out, intent on enjoying the moment, soaking in the warmth and the coolness and the flash of color that tasted like Saturdays in late September. I stilled, and shivered, amid a low, soft hiss as a breeze ran its fingers through the leaves of the trees around me, leaves mostly green but already drying in the late summer heat, trees beginning to pack up like a snowbird preparing to move south for the winter, warm sunlit rooms full of dust and boxes at once industrious and languid. The rising and falling sound of the annual cicadas, reminding me at once of Augusts spent in the Alabama country a few weeks before school began and of the promise of shortening days and cooler weather, the smell of woodsmoke and the tang of early fall mornings.

I really love tulip poplars.

 

 

Sense, and sensation. I've always loved fall - I can't stand the dreary heat of midsummer, as interminable as it is muggy, air so hot and humid that you’ve got to be careful not to rub your hands hard together lest the atmosphere itself wring itself out like a sponge to wet the somehow-dry red clay at your feet. Fall, though, fall is cooler and dryer, yes, but there’s a feeling of change, of good things to come. Of holiday and family, of football and food. Of fading light and growing night, where houselights shine like beacons calling you to come inside. I believe in light. Fall and winter show us where home is.

 

 

It’s not fall, it’s not quite time yet, but this is the time of year where the heavy, unrelenting press of summer on your neck now feels like the comforting weight of a grandfather’s hand on your shoulders, gently reminding you that everything must come in its own time. I know that we’ve long weeks to go before the liminal period of rightness even begins and recedes all too soon into winter chill. I pulled the warm air around me like it was a good winter coat, and wandered inside, comforted.

 

 

It’s not time yet. But I’ve come to understand that there’s an invisible borderline, shifting year to year as the seasons of life change like the seasons of the year, a line where those things we sense – the cooler breeze, the whisper of a marching band floating over the trees that have just set the fuse on the upcoming fireworks of color alight, the smell of a cooking fire – start to become sensation. A feeling you get where amidst unrelenting summer you all of a sudden know that while it may not be time yet, soon it will be.

That’s the Nip.

 

 

 

Could not possibly have said it better. Great poetic flair. Hard to believe but The Nip has been shared here for twenty years. IT is not far away now. Enjoy the anticipation my friend. 

[gr82be 14,935]

4 hours ago, Auctoritas said:

Sense, and sensation. I've always loved fall - I can't stand the dreary heat of midsummer, as interminable as it is muggy, air so hot and humid that you’ve got to be careful not to rub your hands hard together lest the atmosphere itself wring itself out like a sponge to wet the somehow-dry red clay at your feet. Fall, though, fall is cooler and dryer, yes, but there’s a feeling of change, of good things to come. Of holiday and family, of football and food. Of fading light and growing night, where houselights shine like beacons calling you to come inside. I believe in light. Fall and winter show us where home is.

My sentiments exactly although said much better than I could ever say. 

[Mike4AU 1,755]

7 hours ago, Auctoritas said:

I really love tulip poplars.

 

 

 

 

[AuburnNTexas 7,334]

Here in North Texas it was 99 but felt like 104. Weather forecast for next 2 weeks is expected triple digit every day. That said Allen band is practicing we may have a delayed NIP but football will be here soon.

[I_M4_AU 8,978]

2nd morning in a row the temp was in the 50’s at 7 AM here in the mountains of NC.  Feels nice.

[stoic-one 1,589]