Falling to reality...

It’s fall.

I’ve driven to Ottawa two times already this week, which puts me going straight through Starved Rock, which is a place that just screams fall. This is my first autumn in three years, since 2005. So I get a little… well, something… at the turn of the season.

So, for a few days, I was just enthralled with it being fall.

I came out to my car to see wet leaves plopped all over it. And I actually was just really happy about it.

I smelled fall. And breathed in all I could.

And I even broke out an old jacket since it’s been a lot cooler.

But another piece of reality hit last night, about the time I walked out of dinner at some friends’ house and I was freezing. Absolutely freezing. It was like 50 degrees.

I turned on my car’s heat, and then I realized—fall is almost certainly followed by winter.

And winter, as best as I can remember (which I can remember pretty well, as much as I’d like to forget), is cold. Like snow cold. Ice cold. See-your-breath cold.

Whimper.

Naturally I was devastated.

But then I remembered—with glee—that also associated with fall/winter are mittens and scarves (my favorites!) and the holidays.

And by the time I’d got myself a McFlurry—you know, to help me recover (and prepare for hibernation)—and was eating it in the blasting heat of my car, all was well again.