I love this time of year. Finally, the sweatiness and drudgery of the hot months has left, and it’s just now cool enough that a light sweater is a welcome companion. Now we don’t have to open the windows just to cook in comfort, and the luscious smell of the aforementioned pumpkin bread hangs in the air. The girls and I are hanging out, doing our own things in peace with the tv on in the background. My husband is out playing geeky board games with his friends. Just a quiet Saturday evening.
Today, I decided that I am the goddess of clothing. We did our semi-annual changing of the wardrobes, female version (the male version does not exist, I’ve found). This involves hours of “this is too small, but I want to keep it” and “mom, I almost fit into your shoes, can I have them?” Strains of “boy, that’s ugly” and “oh hell no” also were heard. At the end of it all, tired and warm, everything is sorted and placed, and shopping lists prepared to fill the gaps left by miss I-grew two-sizes-over-the-summer, also known as miss that’s-so-not-cool-please-don’t-make-me-wear-it.
A neighbor is building a bonfire nearby, and I keep sniffing the air for wood smoke. It’s a perfectly clear evening, and temperatures are expected to dip down into the upper 30s. Brilliant reds and golds of local leaves are starting to appear on the eastern hills and surprise me as I travel.
This is the time of year that I feel most alive.