I usually get to this time of year--the turning of summer into fall--with a bit of panic alongside. I live in the city but so much of fall happens "out there." Will I miss it? This usually depends on what kinds of trips I can plan for out-of-city adventuring while fall sets in. I don't have any planned this year. Hence, the panic. I don't want to miss it. I don't want to miss the leaves aflame and the smell of the earth turning over--air that's ripe with the smell of living things leaving for awhile.
This morning I'm thinking that I need to make sure I find places to go out of the city when fall is at it's most beautiful. Apple orchards and pumpkin patches. Fields and forests turning all my favorite shades of yellow, orange, red, and brown. The thing about fall is, it's usually gone before we know it. That's part of it's beauty. It never sticks around long enough for us to get sick of it (although who could, even if it did) like the long, dark, wet days of city winter do. They tend to stick around long past their welcome. [side note: it has come to my attention, however, that my aversion to winter is really an aversion to "city winter," which is another breed of animal altogether. i can understand that it is different than winter "out there" where there's snow to play in and woods to explore; porches for sitting and all those winter sports that still seem extremely foreign. i'm determined to snow shoe this winter...]