I am stoked.
Summer has always been my least favorite season. It's too hot to be enjoyable, most days. I'm not fond of immersing myself in water, which is the best way of staying cool in the heat. The sun shines down with cruel tongues of flame blazing, hoping to redden the skin of unsuspecting blondes everywhere (and it always finds me).
I'm glad it's finally August. I enjoy nice, warm weather, when one can spend an afternoon lazing on a porch or going for a run. I love all the shades of green, and the beautiful flowers. But in these months, a 70-degree day is a rare thing, and anything hotter is useless to me. I'd rather have September and October, because today's high is 85, and that's just not acceptable.
After living in New Mexico the last couple of years, I'm eager to see a real change of seasons. I want a swath of brilliant orange and gold right outside my door. A short drive to the store will reveal reds and browns reminiscent of a fairy tale forest - for some reason, in my mind, Hansel and Gretel always takes place in the fall. Same with Little Red Riding Hood, evoking a wolf behind each tree. And best of all, fall brings a nip in the air that means only one thing.
Sweaters are one of my favorite things. They're cozy, comforting, and full of unique patterns and designs. I have a large collection, built up over many years, which is now spread across state lines, and I can no longer remember how many I have. Some are in my mom's basement, because I didn't need them in New Mexico. Some are in New Mexico, because I won't need them until September.
To me, the ultimate sign of fall is wearing a sweater and a scarf while going for a walk. Your feet crumble dry leaves beneath your feet, the branches just beginning to bare themselves but still full of fall glory. The chill forces your hands into pockets, and when you come back inside, your glasses cloud over, and the smells of pumpkin and apples greet you. And a cup of cinnamon tea or apple cider is waiting for you.
Now that is what I call heaven.