Already autumn is going by too quickly. It’s mid-October and it doesn’t seem like there are quite enough leaves underfoot to enjoy crunching on, apples are still hanging on trees and pumpkins are calling to be scooped up.
It’s the strange weather that feels like I’m missing out. Or maybe it’s not strange weather, I can’t really remember back to college to know if 80 degrees in early October is normal for Washington, D.C. However, I doubt it.
The weather is playing havoc of my sense of fall. I want to be eating pumpkin ravioli, enjoying apple cranberry wine on the porch in jeans and a sweater, taking Vienna for a long walk and marveling at the dog’s ability to be entertained by falling leaves. None of those things are pleasant when it’s plus 80 and humid. Doable; not pleasant.
I love fall. Even when I was in school and fall marked the beginning of a new school year I loved it. It was the start of something, a new beginning, a time in the calendar when anything seemed possible. As an adult I’ve loved it just as much and especially in the places I lived during the past seven years. There was the fall I spent in Italy, the fall in New York City and of course the past three in New England, including the one in which I fell in love with my fiancé. Each of those autumns was their own version of postcard or J.Crew catalog perfect.
So, I really need the weather to cool it. Not too cool, it’s not time for snow yet, although that will be here before you know it. But I need sweater wearing, chasing leaves, eating pumpkin ravioli, and drinking apply-cranberry wine weather. Just long enough to savor the autumn.