The mornings are getting crisper and my heart is growing warmer. Fall is my favorite time of year. This summer, more than almost any other summer, I fell in love with the heat and the ice cream and the water and the grilling and the country music. But nothing can compare to my love for this season.
I love the shades of brown and red. I love the nippy winds that make your nose and cheeks turn pink. And how I have missed my sweaters and my jeans.
I love the socks and hot chocolate. I am excited to sit outside and enjoy the way my coffee warms me through both my stomach and my hands. As a person who has never acquired a taste for beer, I am biting at the bit for cider season. For apples and pumpkins and cranberries and warm spices.
Two of my friends from work and I are planning a welcome-fall-baking-extravaganza next weekend, so more recipes to come. I think they all involve cider in some way. Some recipes I’ve been coveting…
There is a solitude to fall that I love, with aimless walks and reflections on change. But fall brings people together too, in times of celebration and warmth.
I am betting D.C. fall will be pretty. There is enough green in this town that I am hoping the streets will be littered with sepia and rust and crimson. I will miss Minnesota fall though. For all of its winter (and summer) brutalities, no one does fall like Minnesota. At least that I have experienced. I’ve heard fall in the north east is quite nice and–even though I feel like it makes me sound a few decades older than I am–the idea of a maple syrup/cider/doughnut tasting tour through some tiny old New England towns sounds perfect.
But mostly I’ll miss Minnesota because I miss Carleton. I figured post-graduation life wouldn’t hit me until fall because–up until now–it has felt like another summer job. Temporary. Well, it is temporary. I have no idea where I will be in eleven months. But, it will be strange to be here when elsewhere people are going to class, reuniting with friends after a few months of adventuring, and doing homework together under falling leaves.
Like the seasons, I guess I am changing too. All I can hope for is that the new leaves I am turning over will be as beautiful as the ones I miss so much.