Goodbye, Summer

I can't handle the heat anymore. I sweat when I curl my hair. I'm done with tank tops and shorts; I want oversized sweaters and fuzzy socks and to leave my hair down so my neck doesn't get cold.

I'm ready for Hocus Pocus on ABC Family, and cold night meals, like chili and cornbread or a hearty stew. I'm ready for the few weeks out of the year where I'd rather order hot drinks at Starbucks, just because of the coziness of it all. I'm ready to live in leggings and Hunter Boots. That's still ok, right? Because if it's not... well. I'm probably going to do it anyway. I'm ready for fall TV. 4pm sunsets. Rainy nights and the drone of windshield wipers.

I flashed back today to Halloween night of last year; Amelia tore into the house in her Minnie Mouse costume before she headed off to Trick Or Treat at the church. We listened to Christmas, because it's sort of an unspoken rule that thinking about Christmas officially begins on Halloween night. I was just crossing the threshold of getting uncomfortably pregnant, and we were busy trying to get the nursery built before the holidays hit. We went to Safeway on Canyon and bought stuff to make homemade french dips and crockpot hot chocolate.

Those are my favorite nights. I love a good, hot summer... but I'm an autumn girl at heart.

For some autumn goodness, check out: http://blanketsandteablog.tumblr.com/. It's like my happy place, for real.

The Gift of Time

I am anxiously awaiting the arrival of summer. Like most seasons, when the end is drawing near, I'm ready. But when it looms on the horizon - full of promise and unknown - I can hardly contain my excitement. Around September, I ache for the twinkle of Christmas lights; the crisp, cool air and the layers of scarves and pea coats and thick knit socks and worn in leather boots. Around February - right now - I can't stop thinking of sunshine. The early morning sunrises, the clear blue skies, the iced coffees and brightly colored trees, fresh in bloom. And even the rain. We get a lot of that around here. Around May, I'm ready for the 9pm sunsets and the screen doors and the smell of the BBQ when I walk in the door from work. I'm ready for sweet tea (because even though we're in the Northwest, I married into a Midwest family, and they know a thing or two about sweet tea) and skipping the gym for a run around the lake. And then, when summer's stretch has become expected, I'm dying for the leaves. The golden leaves, burnt orange and red, littering the ground and leaving the trees bare and cold. I'm ready for pumpkins, and salted caramel latte, and the familiar drone of football on the TV after church. In reflecting on this, one thing is for certain... I'm always ready. Always looking forward. Always grateful for the time I'm leaving behind - and always expectant of its welcome return. Time if a gift. Time marches on. Time, although never promised, is a constant presence in a world of steady change.