Today, in an effort to explain why I love this time of year, I coined the phrase apple weather. While it's true that apple cider is making it's annual re-appearance in the stores, I wasn't really referring to apples themselves, as to the fact that we're in a pattern of sunny, warm days and nights that are cool enough for flannel pajamas and small fires. Truly though, the analogy works, as apples are both crisp and sweet.
Earlier this afternoon, I sat in the sunny back yard and watched Cleo on perimeter patrol while Zorro did what chihuahuas do best: held the deck down. I think he must be a solar powered dog, because even in the hottest weather, he loves to sprawl on the patio and soak up rays. After, he comes and asks for attention, and he always smells like fresh line-dried laundry (and corn chips), and I scratch his ears and call him my sun-baked doggy. But I digress.
As I sat there, I reflected that what I love about this time of year is that even when it's in the mid-eighties, the breeze still has a bite to it that reminds me what the season really is.
In celebration of Fall, I sipped a pumpkin spice latte while re-arranging three bunches of seasonally colored flowers (blood red, maroon, and wine with yellow centers) into two vases, one for the kitchen table and the other for my desk. I haven't bothered to bring home cut flowers all summer, and I realized tonight that I really MISS that ritual, so from now on, even when we order groceries online, flowers will be included. (The secret, btw, to making grocery store flowers look good is to buy two or three bunches and re-arrange them.)
As much as I hate getting up early for it, I'm looking forward to choir practice and church tomorrow – what better way to begin a week than by raising your voice in song? I'm feeling so festive, I might even wear a skirt.
I do own a couple.
And they're not even black.