I adore fall. I love it. I feel like August is that long chug chug chug up to the highest point on a rollercoaster, and as you crest the hill anticipating the thrill of the drop, that, that point is September.
Today was the first day since school started that I actually felt like I was coming up for air. My calendar was blessedly empty. I mean, the square was totally blank. I doodled a bit. I hiked up to the depths of the attic for fall décor. I lit a mulled cider candle. And of course, I made this:
Zucchini Bread.
This is my happy place. I read about this lady once who didn't like cinnamon. And I was sad, because I knew that we could never be friends. Who doesn't like cinnamon??!
Joe and I are the epitome of *opposites attract*. He is a summer boy: there is nothing happier than that guy on the river on a hot summer day. I can only compare this kind of bliss to sitting by a hot, sputtering fire while the wind builds snow angels in the air outside.
But in September, we meet up for a brief moment. He gets fish fever as soon as he smells a smoky September breeze. I drench the air in cider. It always reminds me of that scene in Ladyhawke, where the woman has to hide from the sunrise to catch a glimpse of her love, before she is turned back into a hawk. For that one moment, they can see each other face to face.
And we are already 5 days in!
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