Crisp air. Hot coffee. Fluffy scarves. Bright sunshine.
Warmth and cold juxtaposed.
Though spring is known as a time of rebirth and renewal, I argue that autumn is a season of the new and fresh. The cooler temperatures invigorate me, send me into a morning of clear blue skies with an eagerness to savor the day. Or a morning of mist, sending me into a morning of mystery.
Fall has always been a time of beginnings, in college of moving back to campus, to a life that was full of challenges backed by encouragement and growth. Friendships with fellow students and faculty alike. A time to soak in knowledge. I’m convinced that’s why, for the past two Novembers since I’ve graduated, I was compelled to join the insanity that is National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo. Being busy and producing words was comfortable, even when it was frenzied, writing over 50,000 words in 30 days. Striving for those magic 1,665 words a day and rewarding myself with chocolate instead of a good grade. This year, I had no stories tumbling around in my mind, so I’m working on last year’s draft. Maybe there’s something decent there. Maybe it will only ever be a pet project that I like to browse through occasionally. I’ll know better once I get through this revision.
Novel-writing aside, I am savoring this season of friendship and fellowship, enjoying long, late nights around a bonfire. I wish I knew what it was about a crackling fire that frees us to share and open ourselves up to each other.
There’s little I don’t love about the season. I’m pretty sure I remember telling my boots that I’d missed them the first time I pulled them out this year. I love my scarves year round, but now I can wear the big snuggly ones.
And of course pumpkins. I love pumpkin-patch hay rides.
And squash. I really, really love the aesthetic of these so-strange-they’re-beautiful little guys.
And pumpkin food. And drinks. Pumpkin Spice Latte.
So grateful for autumn.