Crisp

What is it about that cold snap in the air that makes you feel alive? It’s just cool enough to make your blood pump a little harder to keep you warm. Here on the beach the distinct scent of cold is mixed with the smell of salt water. It’s still warm enough for this thick skinned girl to walk around in shorts and a t-shirt, although most of the locals are in khakis and sweaters or the zip down lightweight jackets so familiar around here. The trees are starting to begin their change into the intense hues of autumn. I forgot just how brilliant the colors of the outdoors can be. The palette of the desert is stunning, but certainly not the vivid primaries that the change of seasons can bring. Without the dazzling sun of summer beating down, the sky appears a bright blue, the greens pop in their varying shades from a kelly green to a dark olive of the holly plants. The reds range from the bright red of the Crayola box to deep berry. The fall flowers are blooming and splash color, specifically the bright yellow of the towering sunflowers so popular along the white fence work.

My friend Veronica so clearly described the scents and feeling of fall in this post. If I was still in Arizona I would have read her post with a sense of longing, this year it was with anticipation and excitement. Fall and her cool breezes have certainly arrived here in Northern New England. I certainly second her ardor of the smell of fall.

Last year I was able to experience the beginning of fall for the first time in many, many years. Although the situation wasn’t ideal (we were in Michigan to be with my parents after their accident) it was a shock to those little synapses firing in my brain. A jolt of long hidden memories; burrowing under blankets to watch football, the trips to the apple farms to pick apples and enjoy that first glass of cool cider, the extra quickness of step to ward off the sneaky chill.

I’m grateful for this ease into the cold winter months when I can begin my posts about the beauty of snow angels, white winters and snow on Christmas. Oh you know there will be some, mixed in with the incessant bitching about icy stairs, gray days and damn cold.