Fall Into Me

One minute I'm 'Sweating As The Oldie" and the next thing you know...mm-mm-mmm...feel that crisp fall air. Oh how I love this time of year. Love it, love it, love.

If we were back on Block Island, this would be the time when the crowds begin to lose their massivity (is too a word!) and the ocean still feels warm (it's all relative. To a Block Islander it's still pretty warm. To a Mainer it's a pasta boil. A Southerner wouldn't get in without a dry suit.) It would be the time for sweatshirts and shorts - so what if it's not the most attractive look, who cares? The flip flops would be put away - for most of us - and the tennis shoes dusted off. Where did I pack my socks?

In Maine, the pine trees would begin their shed and the moose would be a tad more likely to be spotted. I did so enjoy certain aspects of Maine. New England, for that matter. But I'm tellin' ya, ain't no mountain high enough to keep me from being able to borrow my cousin's Bissell on an hour's notice.

It's not quite pure fall. There's not yet the hint of cinnamon, pumpkin and the promise of wearing colors entitled 'Aubergine' and 'Ochre'. But it's close. And that's almost enough to put me in a good mood. Almost.