When we moved up to the mountains just over 2 years ago, a big motivating factor for making the move was that I wanted to live in a place where the changing seasons meant changing footwear. Where scarves and gloves were necessary and not just fashionable. Where coming home to a fire meant that the cold that had seeped into my core would slowly unravel and be replaced with a warmth that I previously only associated with taking a shot of whiskey.
Now that we’re here, I make myself take the time to bask in the crisp mountain air as the leaves start their inexorable shift from green to a riot of orange and gold hues. As a child, I remember that the onset of autumn (even without the change in weather) meant fall festivals, Halloween candy, Thanksgiving gluttony and finally, the magical Christmas finale. While I’m not quite as into the march of the holidays as I was 20 years ago, I can’t help but feel a giddy sense of anticipation rise up in my throat as October approaches.
Even as I type this, with my hot tea at my side, there is a riotous parade of leaves floating past my window. Fall, my friends, is here and I plan on soaking up each delicious day of it until the autumn light recedes into the mystery of winter.