I was at work yesterday when the clouds rolled in and the rain started to fall. The wind picked up and it turned into a dreary, wet, cold autumn day.
Autumn is such a romantic time of year in my eyes. There are warm smells coming from the kitchen. There are cozy sweaters and comfy scarves. There are cuddles under blankets and snuggles to keep warm. There are steaming hot chocolates and spiced ciders. There is a crispness to the air that sharpens your step and there are colors surrounding you that set fire to your eyes.
It’s the time of year for your favorite, comfiest sweater, a wooly pair of socks, and scarves for days.
It’s the time of year to put away the rosé, the crisp whites… and break out he big, full, juicy reds.
It’s the time of year to buy a big hunk of meat and roast it on low for hours and hours so the whole apartment smells like tomatoes and garlic and herbs and juices.
Thanks for finally showing up, autumn. I can already tell you were worth the wait.
It had been a month since I made it over to the Wednesday Market.
No idea how that is possible, but it was true. Our refrigerator was bare. The only fruit we’d been eating were bananas, and they certainly aren’t local.
So we braved the heat. I threw on a skirt because I couldn’t bear wearing pants. We went to check out whether the calendar or the weather was right about which season it actually was.
Turns out, even the market was a little confused. But we walked away with end of summer tomatoes, beginning of fall figs, flowers, little gem lettuce, bacon and sausage, apples, peppers for days, and a few squash for good measure.
I’ll admit, I’m ok with this October heat wave if it means tomatoes will stick around a bit longer. But I really, really can’t wait for sweaters and boots and comfy warm clothes…
Somehow, this doesn’t make any sense to me. I don’t know how I got here. I don’t know what happened in these last 8 months or so that ended up with me turning in my rent yesterday with the date October 1st on it.
And the real joke is that it is still summer hot here in Los Angeles. It doesn’t at all feel like sweaters and boots. It feels like bikinis and rosé. It feels like AC blasting all night long as you sleep on top of all the sheets. And kicking your dog off the end of the bed because she is just radiating heat all over your feet. And not letting your husband even touch you because it is just –
too. damn. hot.
So while I’m yearning for all those fall colors, glasses of heavy red wines, scarves, thick socks, and cuddling to keep warm – I’ll settle with toes in the sand, listening to Tom Petty and Lou Reed and the waves crashing against the rocky sand. I’ll settle with driving almost an hour to a beach where I can watch my dog run like a mad woman into the ocean. I’ll settle with a few more cold glasses of white wine before I switch for good over to red.
But come on, fall. You’re really my favorite of the seasons.
…Now I have to admit, between starting and finishing this post I have turned the fan directly on me and found a new artist (Johnnyswim? Liking them.) who has a Christmas EP…
It’s October 2nd, 81 degrees out, and I’m adding to my Christmas playlist. Lord help me.