I was talking over lunch today with my friend Kristen. We discussed the feeling you get when reading a moody novel or short story – that feeling the transcends explanation. The moodiness in the air, the sense of foreboding, the subtle chills down your spine. No matter the temperature, a great book makes it feel like a rainy, cool, fall day. I crave that feeling in my reading.
I thought about fall for the rest of the day. How much I actually enjoy it. I’ve never considered myself a “fall person” before, but this year, I really am. The dampness in the air, the chill lurking just beneath the surface, the winds of change blowing in the early evenings. Fall mornings tease the fast-approaching winter, while fall afternoons have that something special, that comforting call back to the lazy days of summer that just passed. The anticipation is special – nearly palpable. It exists, just out of our conscious reach. I love feeling the crispness, the excitement, and the anticipation of the upcoming season. The faint smells of cider, cinnamon, pumpkin, clove… they all seem to signify that change in the air. Something about fall smells “warm”, not in in terms of temperature, but rather in terms of comfort. Fall is a warm comfy sweater waiting to wrap its arms around you.
This year, I’m letting it envelope me in warmth and coziness.