I didn’t always hold autumn in such high esteem. As a child, I firmly believed that it was the awkward phase between my summers full of pool days and my winters of sledding and hot chocolate. The one redeeming quality of fall was Halloween, when I would proudly drag my bag of candy bars behind me, but even that didn’t hold a candle to my summer days.
Now, at seventeen years old, I fully understand what all the hype is about. I didn’t realize my love of fall until high school, when I started getting really into sweaters. I have a chest in my room full of sweaters: striped ones, soft ones, and, my personal favorite, a mustard yellow one. Wearing a sweater is like being able to walk around with a blanket on and still look socially acceptable. If I had it my way, it would be mandatory for everyone to wear sweaters when the temperature dips below 65 degrees (much to the dismay of people who, for some reason, still wear shorts in the winter).
And then, of course, there’s the food. To me, apple cider is nectar and pumpkin pie is ambrosia. The taste of apple cider, warm or cold, brings me a sense of tranquility, even in the most stressful situations. When I eat apple pie, I can picture my mother carefully crafting the pie crust, occasionally giving me a little piece of pie dough to nibble on. And don’t get me started on Pumpkin Spice Lattes; yes, I know they’re “basic” (whatever that means), but there’s a reason they’re so popular.
I now know that I am happiest when I can hear red and brown leaves crunching under my feet, when I can feel the autumn wind against my skin and smell the earthy scent that always comes after an October rain. While fall isn’t the warmest season, it is the season that fills me with warmth in a way that the heat of the summer never could.