Yes, I am a true Pacific Northwesterner. Tried and true, through and through.
Fall is my favorite time of year.
I've written many a love letter to this season but reading them now, in the bright, warm sun just seems...wrong. Usually I have pumpkins decorating my home, garlands of fall-colored leaves draping my fireplace, an apple candle burning. I usually have homemade soup prepared at least twice a week and have failed at raising at least one batch of rolls to go with it. Normally, during this time of year, I experience a burst of energy much like others do in the springtime...
I'm still waiting for that.
[Hello? Energy? Where are you?]
Fall is magic for me. I love everything about it. I love the colors, the scents, the way the shadows become long and lovely and more mysterious. I love the unpredictable weather, the storms, the wind. I even love a little bit of the rain. I love the change. I love the way it isn't cold enough for a coat but just cold enough for a sweater and maybe a cool scarf. I love the way everything feels in the fall. The air, the light, the sounds - they all take on special meaning for me in the fall.
I can't imagine living without fall. A perpetual summer or winter would do me in, for sure. For it is the changing, the renewal, the hibernation of all things to a place of rest, a place of calm, a place of rebirth that keeps my internal clock ticking. Keeps me energized. Keeps me going.
For fall, you are and always will be, my compass. My light. My birth (even though technically I'm a spring babe).