The Best Time

It's taken a few days to get around to blogging about the end of Daylight Savings, but better late then never, right?

I adore this time of year, I honestly do. After a seemingly endless summer of oppressive heat and baking car interiors, suddenly, fall crashes upon us. California has the oddest of autumns. One minute it's 85 degrees and sunny, the next it's cold and overcast. The trees turn but people are still wearing t-shirts. Only in Washington did I experience a true autumn.

Before you know it, however, the end of Daylight Savings arrives and it seems that the temperatures plummet. Sweaters and coats are pulled out, and the air is crisper, more vibrant. Pumpkins start popping up in every store.

I love every minute of it. The world is transitioning into winter. The days are shorter, and I curl up in my cozy living room in the evenings with a book or a movie. There is a hint of excitement in the air--Thanksgiving is not too far off, and after all of the turkey and mashed potatoes have been consumed, the Christmas season begins in earnest.

Sure, by December 25th I'll be sick of carols and Santas and the craziness of it all, but now, tonight, I am positively shaking with anticipation. No doubt by February I'll be moaning about the rain and wishing for Spring to arrive with its sunshine and flowers--no more dreary gray skies! But tonight I am almost dancing in anticipation of tomorrow...there's rain in the forecast!

So bring on the pumpkin pie and the chocolate Santas. I want to deck my halls and light candles and sing seasonal songs at the top of my lungs. I want to wear gloves and hats and scarves, and watch my breath puff in front of me when I stand outside of my classroom in the mornings.

I want to pack my t-shirts away for a long winter's nap and cuddle up at night in my warmest flannel pajamas. Bring on hot chocolate and trips to snowy places. Give me time with friends and children who believe in magic. I want to savor a fabulous turkey dinner with my parents and shout my thankfulness for all that I have from the rooftops.

If you need me, look for me outside, stomping dry leaves and delighting in the crunch they make under my feet. A silly boy I once knew told me this is the first sign of insanity, but he was wrong. The first sign of insanity is ignoring the inner child who yearns to take in every sight, smell and sound of November and December.