It’s a lovely morning here. I was in the kitchen scrambling some eggs with the windows and screen doors to the porch open. Cool fall breezes are wafting in and I can hear the scrunchy sound of the first fall leaves as they come together in haphazard piles on the sidewalk. This morning is a tease—it will warm up later, but with temperatures in the 50s at breakfast, it’s just enough of an excuse for me to put on my new purple sweater from Ann Taylor Loft and get all cozy.
Toast is in the oven, the cinnamon sugar melting slowly into the butter. Cold milk in the girls’ plastic cups with blue and green monsters all over them. I’ve sliced some perfect red strawberries and can’t stop shoveling their sweetness into my mouth as I go. I’m in a fantastic mood because I adore fall. It’s my favorite season (well, except for having to clean up said leaves—you will be seeing more posts about this soon enough). I love turtlenecks and sweaters and corduroy pants, boots and scarves and hats, and bundling up under lots of woolly layers. I do miss Miss New Orleans, but one of my issues with her is that she really only has one season—hot. I always had a hard time getting into the holiday spirit when we lived there. Here, not so!
The Halloween countdown continues–I put up my little skeleton guy the other day, and perhaps later this afternoon the cobwebs might come out. Fall, I love you!