When the Leaves Change

This post is #21 in my September Writing Project. Details are here.

Prompt: What do you love about this season?

It’s now officially fall. I like to call it autumn though. It feels more dignified than fall. To me, autumn conjures up an image that fall cannot. 

I love when the weather here cools off a smidge. I still want to wear my Birks and let my toes be free, but I love doing it with a pair of ripped up jeans and this grey hoodie that feels so soft I once told my husband it must be made of “magical cotton beans.” You can imagine what kind of reaction that elicited.

Autumn is when I can let the kids play outside without fear of heatstroke and dehydration. It’s when T and I can sit at the small table on our front porch, drinking our Sunday morning coffee while the kids run up and down the sidewalk, giggling as they chase one another.

In autumn, you get that satisfying crunch under your feet as you shuffle through the fallen leaves. I love that sound. I like stepping on fallen acorn shells too.

In October, we’ll go to an event we’ve dubbed “Fall Festival.” I think it’s actually an open house for customers at our friend’s equipment shop (John Deere tractors, Stihl saws, that kind of thing). But they invite us every year. We decorate pumpkins and eat the best ice cream. They setup a play area for the kids and we enjoy being in the sunshine while the kiddos ooh and ahh at enormous tractors. 

I’ll start thinking about cozy things like candles and fuzzy blankets. I’ll probably share my blog post on hygge a truly annoying number of times on Instagram. We’ll drink a little more coffee and a lot more tea when we all get our annual sniffles, and we’ll all take care of each other.

Soon we’ll figure out Halloween costumes for the kiddos. Right now they both want to be vampires. Commence with the Amazon searches for “tiny vampire capes.” My husband and I will debate making everyone participate in a family costume, even though we never execute our plans. (Current idea: the Rose family from Schitt’s Creek. Yes, I’m beyond loving this show and will openly admit that we’ve landed in obsession territory. Please let me grow up to be Moira Rose.)

At the end of October, I’ll acknowledge what should’ve been my mom’s 61st birthday. I’ll visit her grave and bring her a tiny pumpkin like I have every year since 2011. And I will share with someone the story of her 40th birthday party, which included an unwelcome surprise costume party and a can of spam. It’s a great story.

November is a wonderful month because it’s when our Bean was born. She’s our Thanksgiving-ish baby. We will not be surprising her with a trip to DisneyWorld this year but I think it’s ok. Last time I checked, she wanted to celebrate her birthday at Jungle Jim’s, which is the international grocery store in Cincinnati. You do you, kid. I am in awe as I watch her grow up. She made me a mom and it’s the greatest blessing of my life.

And we’ll host Thanksgiving brunch with more booze than food. And we’ll make Christmas lists. And we’ll eat doughnuts and go to the park and turn off the AC. Maybe we’ll carve a pumpkin.

And I will be grateful.