Getting to the heart of what matters...and tales from my journeys there.
Monday, October 11, 2010
It happens every year. After a long and wonderful summer vacation, I go back to school. Wearing Capris and sandals, I watch what remains of summer from my classroom window, wishing the school was air-conditioned. A few weeks later, it becomes imperative to watch the weather, not knowing from day to day how to dress, while New England waffles on whether or not it wants to change seasons.
While the weather undergoes its identity crisis, I start slowly making my transition. One week I might make chili. I buy apples. I buy a pumpkin spice candle. I start wearing fuzzy socks. My favorite fleece blanket comes out of storage. I wear closed-toed shoes. (Reluctantly, I might add.)(Begrudgingly.) I go to Vermont with the girls and get inspired by the foliage. I find myself in a long-sleeved t-shirt and pajama pants and said fuzzy socks while watching the evening news. Fall blooms fill my vase, and pumpkin decorations find their way onto my coffee table. I finally light the pumpkin spice candle. Eventually there is no turning back. Even the warmest of days won’t warrant sandals, despite a new fall pedicure, and I embrace fall.
Yesterday I celebrated. As I watched TV and read in the late afternoon, enjoying the scent of my pumpkin spice candle while I sipped a pumpkin spice martini, I decided to bake some pumpkin bread. From scratch. Garnished with pepitas.