2:38 p.m. - 2003-09-08
Fall fever.
I have fall fever. The sound, smell and feel of falling leaves, whiffs of wood fire smoke, and crisp, cool air. Fall is a feast for my senses, the best time of year, when all is right with the world. Blue jeans, sneakers and navy blue sweatshirt jackets.
I long to be in the woods, taking in the vast views when you get to the top and look over a valley. Eating peanut butter sandwiches and hanging with good friends while cheeks get rosy with exertion and chill wind.
The beach takes on different personality when surfers have retreated back from the shore to let Old Man Winter begin his transformation of summer surf into snow-capped breakers.
Sitting on a soft blanket, warming with the last glimpses of the sun. The smell of peanut oil fries -- the last hangers on of beach food.
Craft fairs and wine festivals, opening day of football. Rennaissance festivals, hay rides, Halloween. Thanksgiving and pilgrims and Battlefield tours.
Bike rides by the river, walks on the toe path. Weekends in mountain cabins with best friends.
Anticipation and hope.
