falling

We slept with the windows open last night.
When I left for my spinning class in the morning,
I wore a hoody.
I turned the heater on in the car.
When I was done, the Gatorade in my back seat was perfectly chilled.

We drove up the canyon 

looking for leaves signaling the switch.
We spotted a few yellow and red bursts of color among the green.
Which only means one thing.

FALL.
There's something in the wind that says it's here.
I can smell it - that combination of
leaves and hot chocolate and soup and long sleeves.
And finally I can breathe again.
It's like the summer heat sucks my extra oxygen,

steals it to fill the atmosphere with fire.
I exist in small bursts of energy,
fueled solely by air conditioning, bottled water
and the necessity of grocery shopping.

But then fall sweeps in,
blowing the heat south
(is that where the heat goes?)
and leaving me with cool, crisp air.
The kind that makes you turn your face into the wind
because there's something about pink cheeks
that makes everyone feel more alive.
The kind that makes you dig
your hands deep into your pockets,
not only because there's a chill
but also because it's so comfortable to be warm
and not hot.

Welcome back fall.
It's been a long year,
and I've missed you.

And your long sleeves.

The photo on the right is Annabelle's response to our requests to smile.
 Cracks us up every time.
Oh, and note that her blanket is missing in the first photo.
Thus the reaching.
Can't really function without that thing. :)