There’s something about brisk evenings. They make me feel like all is right in the world.
I love fall. Everything is brown, red and orange. Trees, leaves, and sunsets; Cinnamon, apples and pumpkins. And the punctuation to all these warming neutral colors is a cool evening after a sunny, breezy day. Then I know fall has arrived.
Which is to say heaven is clearly more visible on earth. The drink of heaven must be fresh cider (of the Maine variety), with pumpkin lattes as a close second. And the choice dessert has to be apple pie, particularly my mom’s. There must be a giant leaf pile, too, for leaping in over and over again. Wagon rides must roll constantly from the leaf pile to the pumpkin patch.
Basically, fall feels right. It never feels like the end of something – it always feels like the beginning. Perhaps school has engrained this in me, but I find when the days get shorter and the air gets cooler, I’m prepared for change. The kind of change that is a fresh start.
Crunching beneath my feet. Sun beating on my face. Breeze blowing – cool enough to demand fleece and jeans. Juice sliding down my chin from a fresh bitten apple. Blankets piled on to adjust to the longer night.
It’s more balanced than summer and winter. It’s more nostalgic than spring. It’s fall – perfectly orchestrated for our senses.