The New Englander in me feels the outside temperature should be 56 degrees and falling. Subconsciously I question the leaves as to why they have yet to flutter off the trees and fall into messy and crunchy piles. I should be pulling on jackets and and donning fashionable scarves by now. The New Englander in me expects to wake up freezing, the tip of my nose a little ice cube. The mornings should be surprisingly chilly with a thin layer of frost on the dying grass. I should be seeing my breath in little puffy clouds when I walk outside in the evenings. At this time in the year, I'm secretly dying to put on my collection of Christmas music and long for the festivities of the holiday season...
So imagine my frustration (for lack of better words) to hit the Blue Ridge Mountains this weekend for a hike and 5 minutes into the hike I was breaking a decent sweat. October is about layers, right? Undershirt, long-sleeve shirt, sweatshirt or jacket...nope. Tank top by minute 15. Oh well. I am no longer a resident of New England. I wake up a bit overheated... I don't have to wear jeans if I don't feel like it, and I most certainly don't need to wear a jacket ~ nor do I dare don that scarf. If I do I'll sweat to death. The majority of the leaves remain attached to the trees ~ though they are changing to dying shades of gold. I can't imagine listening to Christmas music... And secretly the thought fills me with feelings of dread: It will only make me homesick. But I am learning to accept these things! I'm trying to be positive and not wish the season change away. I suppose I'm just seeking that sense of familiarity. I'll bet a pumpkin spice latte on it.
But those Blue Ridge Mountains. They're gorgeous. They capture my attention around every corner.
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