There is the slightest break in morning air. Here in The Dale, that’s big. It signals three digits are on the way out. It’s Fall, of sorts. Though still stifling in the afternoon, soon we will, again, drink wine on the patio. Some girls lose our minds come Autumn.
We believe Labor Day is the actual real new year. School is back in session. The social season commences –plays, performances, opera and galas–but really, college football and hockey. Can you say Golden Knights? It’s the slice of year that revs us up to get back in gear. On the surface of the sun, clients return from travels. With the exception of listening to their tales of Coronado, business flows easily. Jealous much? Moi?
Fall air got this girl thinking of what makes Autumn amazing.
You mean besides fashion including boots, leggings, big boyfriend sweaters and scarves? This year hails the return of the blazer and animal prints. I know, I know. But when leopard returns, a girl can only stand so much excitement. Recently a precious sweater guard is gifted by Sorority Sister’s mom, who claims I’m the girl to wear it. Don’t you just love when someone appreciates how geeky and old fashioned you are and sends a gift to prove it? RIP Carol. Girl knew how to throw a party, always in heels and pearls. And yes, sweater guard has two little pearls–perfect for a leopard sweater.
How about food? Comfort food of the Midwestern kind. You mean wild rice soup, chili and enough starches to fill a girl to the brim? Finally, throw off the shackles of summer skinny and plump up enough to cozy up in front of a fire with a toddy or two?
In The Dale, flowers breathe their last by June. We can soon plant with abandon, spicing up the patio with purples and reds and blues and vines and pansies and petunias and ferns. After all, we need the wafting of fresh flowers as we sip Pinots of the Noir, and not the summer Grigio, varietal. Even coffee’s better in Autumn air, all sleepy eyed and sweater clad. With socks.
The Dolls wax poetic when pondering Fall Love. On their lists:
Pumpkin Spice. Sometimes there’s no accounting for taste.
Flushed cheeks. That would be a yes.
New TV. You mean like the final season of House of Cards and the return of This Is Us?
Hocus Pocus. Ummm, yes.
Cinnamon Candles. Aren’t candles always a requirement?
Pecan Pie. Some of us react like that Pavlov guy’s puppy.
Steamy baths. You mean without having to crank the AC down? That’s a hard yes.
Did we mention football? Of the SEC kind? With shakers and houndstooth and tailgates and rivalries. Roll Tide.
Open the windows. Breathe deeply. See if you don’t catch the scent of a bonfire in your neighborhood. Where’s your sweater?
The Duchess Diaries 