Falling.

On October 1st, my Instagram and Facebook feeds were flooded with exclamations about it FINALLY being October and it's apparently everyone's favorite month and hurrah fall, it's finally here.

(Before I go any further I should take a moment and express my appreciation for that fact that with the exception of the autumnal beers I started spotting in August and the actual pumpkins lined up at Whole Foods around Labor Day, I am thrilled not a single person made a pumpkin spiced reference to anything while it was still beach season.) 

(Well. Not to my face at least.)

(I imagine most know better by now.)

Every year, every October, I face the same conundrum.  Almost the entire world...or at least the Northeast corridor of these United States is gleefully ready to discard summer like a former fling and run into the open arms of a new lover, fall, without a single glance back. Yes, I readily admit that I am biased but I have never understood the quick rush to be rid of summer. It's the season that gives us long days, bountiful fruits and vegetables, gorgeous flowers, green grass, beach days, vacations, crickets, summer beers, late porch nights, and a general sense of the whole world slowing down a minute to savor a lazy, long, sunny afternoon once in awhile. Why would anyone be in a rush to be rid of that?!  

But, listen, I know that it's no fun to hang out with the person who is always talking about the past and how great it was and how the present just doesn't hold a candle to what used to be. While I firmly plant my stubborn stick into the ground regarding the fact that summer does NOT end until the third week of September (September 23rd this year for anyone keeping track) I decided that this year I would try and genuinely work to understand the appeal of this amazing! my favorite! fall season chatter.

Yes, yes, yes.  I get it.  There are crisp days and the leaves change color and everyone is bundled up in sweaters and scarves and tights.  The sunlight falls in such a graceful way throughout the day one cannot help but appreciate it. Boots are dug out of the closet, blankets are piled onto beds, and hot tea and coffee replace the iced varieties. While 90% of the population sees all of these changes as exciting and welcome?  I see...crisp days that eventually turn downright cold. A sun that eventually sets at 4pm. Leaves that change color and then fall to the ground for months and months leaving all trees totally bare. My closet and wallet will attest to the fact that I love a good boot as much as the next girl but the return of those boots and sweaters and hats means the end of flip flops and summer dresses and messy forgotten ponytails.

By all standards I'm pretty much a glass is half-full kind of gal. With fall however, I appear to have uncovered a pessimist lurking deep within. Every year I say I'm going to try and change my perspective. While I haven't exactly dug out all of my wool coats and down comforters yet, I am trying to appreciate the season. To be present and in the moment.  Last weekend I went on a hiking/yoga retreat in the White Mountains of New Hampshire and we were blessed with incredible weather.  I did my best to notice the stunning color of the leaves, to breath in the smoky smells in the air from the lodge, to enjoy rather than grumble about putting on layers.

It's not that I cannot see the beauty in this season because I can.  But, oh, fall!  You are forever melancholy in my mind.  As the sun sets earlier and rises later and the cool air forces us all inside and our open windows to be closed, I cannot help but feel waves of nostalgia for a place, a time, that I can't exactly pinpoint. I find myself lonely and searching for a place I haven't lived in nineteen years.

Home.