Fall

Living in the south, it's very, very easy to forget about seasons. I mean, I see the sweaters packed away in the top of my closet and I notice the coats and jackets squirreled away in the guest room closet, but any weather other than hotter than all hades fades away around March.

I pack up my sweaters and break out my rainbows faster than you can say flip-flop on the first warm day of spring. I've never been a fan of cold weather (so I try to refrain from protesting about weather so hot that my hydrangeas look like they are ready to commit hari-kari two-thirds of the year).

Fall is different though. Fall means football and foliage, pumpkins and apples. It tempts you with brisk evenings combined with warm, sunny days. I used to resist the beauty of fall simply because I knew that fall meant cold, drab winter was right around the corner.

Maybe it's all the years of marital bliss that have changed my mind. The Captain loves fall - he is usually out hiking, camping, and generally enjoying the brisk air while I sit inside and scowl at the leaves that we have to rake. Don't get me wrong - I don't see any camping in my future - but I do feel the urge to go enjoy the beautiful fall leaves, then come home and bake some warm, spiced apple treat. Perhpas motherhood has given me a fresh view on the merits of seasons.  Or maybe I'm just ready to bring my favorite boots down from the closet.  (English Saddle? Yes, please.)

<Insert perfunctory Baby/Fall picture here.>
Seriously though, she was definitely the cutest pumpkin in the patch 

Either way, I find myself actually looking forward to brisk mornings and mild days.  Snuggling on the couch watching UGA salvage the rest of their football season, taking AG to the fair, and enjoying afternoons at the park without feeling the need to bolt to the nearest air conditioned building have all had effect on me.  Who knew you could grow to like seasons? Anyone else feel the same way about their boots?