The fall is by far my favorite season. The weather is warm but not hot during the day, the nights have the perfect sleep-inducing chill in the air, and the trees slowly explode into a symphony of rustic beauty.
Every year, there’s one moment in early September or late August when I step outside and the air temperature is just right, and a happy little switch flips in my head – autumn is upon us.
That moment happened at 6:57am this morning, as I went to let Daisy the Wonder Poodle out. According to the Weather Channel app on my phone (it’s sad that I check the temperature where I’m standing with the Internet and not a thermometer) it was 53 degrees out there. All I know is my body understood the moment I stepped outside that my favorite time of year was beginning.
Two things happened at once. I thought about sweaters, which I think a lot of people do – I didn’t make up the phrase “sweater weather” – and I wanted a pumpkin beer. My body didn’t care that it was so early, my bones simply ached for Southern Tier Pumking.
And soon I shall oblige. I’ll stop off tonight and load up on all those fall beers I was complaining about a couple of weeks ago, happy that they’re here now that I crave them.
Between real football starting, a few leaves turning and pumpkin beers on the brain, I’m psyched for the sights and sounds and smells and tastes of the fall.
Especially because I don’t have to go back to school – those days have long passed. Instead, I get to make my kids get up early, tease them that their slacker summer days are over, and say that phrase our dad would always gleefully chime the night before we headed back: “TIIIIIME FOR BED, SCHOOO-OOOL TOMORROW!!”
I love the fall.