It turned to autumn so fast. Literally, one day to the next.
Old men on the ferry were looking at a sun-drenched, hot day last week and saying “This is the last warm day. It’ll turn tonight.”
And it did. Suddenly the air is crisp, and there was a frost warning last night, and the very tips of the leaves are starting to go red. This is my favorite season, I love it so much I kind of married it (we got married on the most autumnal of autumnal days, in an apple orchard, with leaves falling all around) and I get so excited when the light and the air turns like this. It’s all coming–festivals (Common Ground! Sacred and Profane!) and my little museum space and Halloween and the Great Pumpkin and Thanksgiving and then SNOW and Christmas and St. Lucia and ALL THE BEST THINGS. Give me September through March any year. It is my time.
We went apple-picking yesterday with friends. I don’t actually much care for apples as a fruit (unless they are green), I’m more of a pear girl (and pumpkin! Which is not a fruit) but it was so nice to lie on the grass under a streaky blue sky with a big blue barn nearby and the soft thud of apples sounding. Two little girls in full tiaras and fairy gowns ran through the orchard rows. Crows watched.