It's October, right? I'm trying to get into the mood. But it's hard to. It's going to be 90 degrees this week. They promised us a cool front by Friday, which means a high of 86. They're selling scarves and gloves in Target, but I can't imagine wearing them, I can't even touch anything that's been knit. I wasn't born here, so I get all wish-I-was-there, which turns into a nostalgia chowder of actual childhood memories - mushy pumpkins, rakes combing through brown grass, stuffing wet leaves down the back of my brother's shirt, and autumnal Martha Stewart - spiced cider, Wellington boots, elaborate table centerpieces made of wild pheasant feathers and hand-carved gourds. I don't know if I'm missing anything real, but who cares? Looking up at a cobalt blue sky through the acid yellow canopy of a Norway maple will always be October for me. A gently waving palm tree will never be. Though, to be honest, I think all that glorious marigold and firewood musked leaf turning glory actually took place in November.
Anyway, I need to get into the mood somehow. Maybe a bit of Halloween reconstruction, dollhouse style, from a year or two ago.
...and the year before that. Maybe it will work. I hope so. I'll let you know.