I remember living for the summer. This was for obvious reasons: I didn’t have to go to school, I basically spent everyday barefoot, I didn’t have to work (until some point in high school, but still, a part-time job is nothing). Now I live for the fall. I think this transition was a gradual one that began in 8th grade when I started to look forward to field hockey preseason (I also had preseason in 7th grade, but I was scared to death because it was my first year and I was a middle schooler playing on a high school team. Say what?).
Fall reminds me of getting to the field hockey fields at the early point in the morning where it’s cold enough to wear a long-sleeve shirt, but you’re still able to work up a sweat by the afternoon. There’s a quiet in the fall mornings that isn’t there in summer, because people are out and about trying to soak up as much warm weather as possible. When the mornings get colder, fewer people are out ruining the silence, aside from a few fellow athletes and runners. It feels like you’re part of an elite club that braved the chilly temperatures and you all have the understanding that this is meant to be a peaceful part of the day.
My next big step of loving fall progressed my sophomore year of college (definitely not during my freshman year when I was terrified of the new field hockey coach I had never met and of college itself). Once I got through preseason (which is not nearly as enjoyable as it was in high school), it began to feel like fall and I could wear sweaters to class along with boots and scarves, which are pretty much the only accessories beyond jewelry that I even care about. Going for drives around town with MGMT blasting from my car on a fall night, sitting on a friend’s porch drinking a Woodchuck, these are the types of things that make up my love of fall.
As of now, it’s my favorite season. It probably always will be, mostly because I have a very small window of temperature where I’m completely comfortable and fall encompasses that range (approximately 65 degrees to 72 degrees. Below that I’m freezing and above that I’m sweating). I’d also like to point out that someone told me I would love summers in New York, and they are a huge liar. Summers in New York City are terrible, particularly for train riders. Ever been on a hot, humid, stuffy platform when the train is half an hour late? I have. I’ve also almost passed out during that moment and thought, “So this is how it ends.”
But fall in New York? I can get down with fall in New York. I don’t mind walking for blocks on blocks on blocks because the weather is perfect, and as stated before I’m likely wearing boots – with heels – and am forced to strut like Beyoncé (bummer). And people are nicer because it’s not super hot and making them cranky…or maybe it’s just that I’m nicer because it’s not super hot, which inevitably would make me cranky.
I feel like only adults appreciate the fall, and I wish I had appreciated it more while I was younger. I was probably too caught up in the whole I-hate-going-to-school thing that young’uns tend to get lost in, and in the process I missed out on really taking in the best season. I think it’s more so that fall is an acquired taste.
To me, summer is the Mike’s Hard Lemonade of seasons, and fall is the dark oatmeal stout or Chianti. Yup, I just went there. I compared seasons to alcohol. And don’t try to deny that these analogies aren’t spot on. Winter is the almost kicked keg of Natty Light.
You know what else? Fall is the perfect time to plan a vacation as I have done for the second year in a row. I don’t need to lay out on a beach or be in the water to enjoy some time off. I need to explore new places when their leaves are at their peak loveliness and when I can walk around without sweating like a pig.
Anyhow, if you’re still reading at this point you know I’m a huge fan of the fall. I love all things pumpkin and apple and cinnamon. I love crisp air and crunchy leaves. I love bundling up before leaving my apartment. And I love walking around in my high-heeled boots like Queen Bey.