The weatherman said that it was going to be only 70 degrees today. I'd pulled the duvet over my head when the alarm went off (20 minutes ago), but his announcement forced me to open one eye. 70 degrees. It was going to be a cool, clear Ohio day.
I could wear a sweater outside of the office (which is annoyingly yet permanently igloo-like), and not sweat profusely. My hair wouldn't get chaotically frizzy and out of control from humidity. I could wear sneakers or my favorite brown Birkenstock shoes instead of my black J. Crew flip-flops. Thoughts of shoes and socks and the birth of autumn were honestly the only things that got me out of bed this morning.
Autumn is the season of change. The time of year for reflection; for the beauty of burning golds and fiery reds to replace the delicate pink petals of Springtime; for long walks in crunchy, crackly leaves; for tailgating and beer and friends on Saturday afternoons; for football and naps on Sunday. The time of year for sitting in the comfy chair by the window, reading The Lord of the Rings and listening to Led Zeppelin with the candles burning, or sitting on the stoop watching the sky turn from cobalt blue to smoky grey. The time of year to pull out my pea coat or wear my scarf over my sweater in that terribly cool European kind of way.
It's poignant and backwards in its splendor, or perhaps in my appreciation of the season. The music of the summertime birds gives way to the wind rustling through orange paper leaves to the song of birds, which is so much more beautiful in my mind. That last hot dog of the season, usually had at some post-Labor Day party always tastes so much better, even though I know it will be months until I have another.
And every year it surprises me how much more I appreciate this deathly golden season. It amazes me how I didn't take tremendous notice of the changing leaves reflected in the Hudson. I kick myself for not stopping to admire the beauty of it all when I was surrounded by autumn in the Adirondacks. But here, in Ohio, I feel it in my heart. It makes me stare outside the window at work and dream of building a fire in my fireplace. I want to take a road trip to anywhere or find an adventure. But most of all, I am happy to be where I am right now, right here, surrounded by my friends, wrapped up in wool and flannel, in the heart of it all.
Join Miranda on The
Road Taken.
The notify is singing "Happy Journal to You." Oh, and believe me, now is definitely the time to be signing up. I wouldn't say I'm bribing you here, except that I am.
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