It begins

September 1st. Okay, I know fall doesn’t officially start for another 21 days, but in my mind, September 1st is the beginning of autumn. It’s the day I let myself put out fall decorations at home (Halloween doesn’t come out until October 1st). After this day you can be fairly certain that young people are safely ensconced in classrooms, not out running rampant with melted popsicles dripping down their chins. The weather may still be warm, but you know that won’t last too much longer. The evenings start getting cooler, we take blankets out of storage after too many nights of sleeping under only sheets or nothing at all. It starts getting dark at a reasonable hour instead of the 10 o’clock twilight of summer. It won’t be long until the shelves of department stores and grocery stores are filled with orange and black and shelves of candy. Pumpkins, scarecrows, corn, and bales of hay will start appearing on porches and stoops. I’m going to start incorporating piles of apples, butternut squash, sweet potatoes, and pumpkin into my cooking soon.

I know lots of serious Halloween fans count down the days until October 31st, but this is the day I count down to. This is the beginning of the season. The next two months are my favorite time of year. I enjoy every day on its own merits—the leaves, sweaters, apple cider, the slant of autumn sunlight in my kitchen, being able to cook and bake again without making the entire house an oven. I love the warm sunny days spent walking through piles of dead leaves. I love the cold rainy days when orange leaves seem a hundred times brighter against the gray sky and I feel perfectly justified in curling up on the couch with some soup and grilled cheese and a movie. I love the thrill I get when I see someone who’s gone all out in decorating their house for Halloween. I feel the most “myself” during this time of year, as if I’m living in a fall world all the time, but this is the only time when the outside world is in sync with my internal world.