I've always had a love/hate relationship with fall. Usually by mid-September I'm kinda over the 90-degree days and humidity and ready for some crisp cool air. Days of hoodies and scarves and good hair. But as every New Englander knows, the arrival of autumn means that Old Man Winter is waiting just around the corner, rubbing his hands together and licking his chops. That man is not my friend. He is a cold, fickle, unforgiving fellow.
On a side note, there's a commercial running now for a local news channel. "We've crunched all the numbers, we've tracked all the patterns, and now we'll tell YOU how bad this winter will be." To that I say, HA! Was this the same station (as well as every other local station) that told us last year we were getting the Blizzard of the Century and we did not get a single inch? As in ZERO inches. Not even a dusting. That was with a day's notice. So they're going to tell me NOW how bad THIS WHOLE WINTER will be? HA! I said it again.
But anyway. It's not winter yet. It is fall. I'm living in the now, man. Now is a great place to be. Full of family, food, and football.
And leaves... oh so many leaves.
Thanks to my husband and father-in-law, these leaves are gone from the yard. They lived a good life. But it was time.
We told him they went up to leaf heaven. There were only a few tears. Kid's gotta learn.