Lately when I’ve gone outside to walk the dog in the morning there’s a distinct chill to the air along with a faint tangy smell, the leaves preparing to turn color, to die. It’s not quite here yet, but all of that tells me that fall is coming, and I am so, so happy.
Fall (autumn) is the time when I feel the most like myself. I wear the clothes that I love: sweaters, flannel shirts, long pants, fleece tights. There is food made from cinnamon and apples. And there’s apple picking! The air is cool, comfortable to move in without biting my skin or making me sweat. And the smell — I really to love that dying smell.
There are no real holidays until Thanksgiving to cause stress, no sense that I should be going places because it’s summer and that’s what you do in summer. It’s dark when I wake up now, and I prefer that, sliding into the morning with the sun while I write (or procrastinate and read webcomics). When I take the back roads to my job, wind will shiver the tree branches and leaves in my favorite colors will rain down on my car.
I like the other seasons fine, I even don’t hate summer despite the oppressive pressure all that sunshine puts on me. But in the fall I feel comfortable, I feel relaxed, as if when the leaves change color someone hits a reset button hidden somewhere on my spine.
Do you have a favorite season, one that makes you feel like you? Do you live in one of those weirdo places where seasons barely exist? What’s that like?