A swift kick from autumn in the county


It's that time of year when your Facebook friends bombard you with hazy pictures of pumpkinspiced lattes, your morning commute is suddenly prettier thanks to leaves kissed by autumn's colorful blessing, and there's a crisp nip in the evening air reminding you to button up your jacket.

It's fall again in the Berkshires, and I can't help but be suddenly surprised by it after spending most of it's transition in the sunny 90-degree mountains of San Diego. Maybe "surprised" isn't the right word. For the husband and I, fall smacked into us as if we were walking along not looking ahead, running face first into a brick wall - a beautiful brick wall, but jarring nonetheless.

Before I could finish unpacking my bathing suits, sandals and sunscreen, we were already discussing Thanksgiving plans and where I'd be carting my new English china set complete with a turkey-sized serving platter courtesy of my gracious aunt and uncle from England, who trekked the fine china across the great pond as a wedding gift. I spent Sunday evening pricing a gallon of oil to map out our winter heating strategy, while the husband watched the NFL Network. Like it or not, fall is here.

But I don't mind at all. I love the changing leaves, the excuse to make soup in the Crockpot every night to take the chill out of the air, and apple crisp once a week to use up the bags of apples my G'ma picks for me. Fall means the transition to tights, sweater dresses and scarves, and that decorating the house with everything orange is finally socially acceptable.

On the other side of the autumnloving spectrum is the husband, who sees the foliage as winter's breath knocking on our fleeting hours of daylight after 5 p.m.

"I hate this time of year," he muttered to himself when we were driving home from my parent's house in the Catskills last weekend, after an important stop at the local pumpkin farm, where I got a prized orange 10-pounder for the fair price of $2.

"How can you hate the fall?" I asked incredulously, as I clutched my new pumpkin in an effort to shield it from his grumblings. No one wants to hurt a pumpkin's feelings, after all.

"It means summer is over and winter is here," he replied. I couldn't argue with his logic, but I quickly reminded him of our honeymoon pact to always live in and enjoy the present instead of worrying about what comes next. That's what fall is really about: embracing the changing seasons and celebrating its beauty while knowing full well what comes around the calendar corner.

So, while fall nay-sayers like my husband might be out there theoretically spitting in your pumpkin-spiced latte, don't mind them. Just proudly raise your mug with your mitten-clad hand and cheers to the fall.

Lindsey Hollenbaugh is The Eagle's online editor. Email her at lhollenbaugh@berkshireeagle.com or follow her on Twitter at@BerkshireBabyE.


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