Whenever summer starts to loosen its death grip on the weather, and crisper mornings start to require a little more clothing, I feel my heart become lighter, brighter.
Surely, we all know, since I’m Fatty McCupcakes, that part of why I love autumn so much is because it means no more exposed chub. Hands down, autumn and winter fashion is my favorite, not only because more of my body is covered, but because I love what I get to cover my body in-cardigans galore, plaid scarves, and every type of boot imaginable.
Pumpkin-flavored-everything starts to be available, and my inner, wannabe-baker starts to stockpile sprinkles, sugar skull cupcake liners, and bags of baking sugar. And, sometimes, I actually get around to baking something delicious.
Warm, rich stews appear in the dinner rotation, and suddenly, homemade hot apple cider sounds like a good idea.
I start to purchase huge bags of candy for trick or treaters (no, these never get busted into before Halloween), and I start creating my next, too-involved Halloween costume for school.
So, essentially, I’m just like every other basic, white bitch, dusting off her Uggs.
If it’s basic to love a season so much that you go hog wild on doing positively everything that makes said season fun as shit, then label me Basic AF, with a capital Chambray and Chevron.
I don’t even care.
But, if you love autumn and all that comes with it with every fiber of your being like I do, it’s likely due to something deeper than PSLs and artsy wet leaf Instagram shots.
You probably had loving, involved parents who pointed out the changing leaves and talked to you about why the seasons change.
You likely had a family who took you to pumpkin patches to pick the *perfect* pumpkin to carve. And then you went home to make hot apple cider.
Maybe your mom took you on Sunday drives in the rain, so that you could witness, first hand, the changing season in all its resplendent glory.
So, it’s settled. I’m a basic, but Canva-graphic-deep, autumn-obsessed bitch.
I’ve said in earlier posts that when the seasons change, I think of Elko. I don’t know what it is about that place. Especially since I positively hated living there the better part of the first year.
Still, after so many years, when autumn arrives, it reminds me of the beauty that is Elko.
Here’s what really sings in my heart when autumn rolls in with the dry leaves and fireplace smell:
Muddy roads and slanted rain on dusty windows.
The smell of rich earth, wet leaves. An old heater. Burning wood.
Heavy, low-lying clouds, blanketing brown sagebrushed hills. Wet, dark, slate.
The blue-tinged sunshine. Crisp blue skies. Orange, brown, red.
The taste of cinnamon and cloves. Pumpkin. Yeast.
Enveloping darkness and lighted windows projecting warmth and a story.
This is autumn.
This is autumn, bitch.