indessed roscivs

Fall is my favorite season, by far. That first day after a long, hot summer, when you step outside and feel a bit of a chill in the air that makes you step back with surprise—the sound of crunchy leaves, swirling here and there in little piles, colors golden brown and red and yellow—curling up on the couch with a good book and a warm blanket—the joyous realization that you’ll never be unbearably hot again for a long, long time—

it’s a beautiful time of year. It feels festive! It’s harvest time, and the colors of nature and the brisk cool feeling remind you of that fact in every moment.

According to J., this is the same story I tell every autumn—but then, when winter comes, I insist that winter is and always has been my favorite season, and that although I love fall, I never thought of it as my favorite. (How faithless and fickle!) But right now, at the cusp of the change in seasons, such a claim seems ridiculous. “Winter?!” I ask, incredulous. Certainly winter is a wonderful time of year, and I love nearly everything about it. But how can it compare with the magic of autumn! I can’t ever imagine loving winter more …

So, you all are my witnesses—right now, at least, I firmly believe that fall is my favorite season of all. If January comes along and I’m going on about how fall was never really that great, but winter! that’s the most wonderful time of the year—feel free to point me towards this post and feed me a healthy dose of my own words. (J. is planning on taking a screenshot, just so I can’t retroactively alter this post. That might not be a bad idea.)

This entry was posted on Thursday, September 25th, 2008 at 9:00 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.