Ahem. I'd like to amend a previous pronouncement.
It seems I was a bit too effusive on the topic of Autumn. My once absolute proclamation that Fall was the very best season of the year has expired. Turns out I don't actually like Fall. Fall, as in the day when you can only stare out the window at the mesmerizing drift of leaves as they are whipped out of their lofty branches in a matter of minutes by Arctic winds.
My heart actually belongs to Indian Summer.
Which is to say, I love when it's still warm outside but you've been watering your garden long enough that you merely break up with it one day and proclaim that "the season" is over. I love when it's warm enough to wear shorts, but cool enough to retire the tank tops. I love when it's warm enough to justify leaving a pair of flip flops in the mud room. I love when it's warm enough to leave the gym in your sweaty clothes without concern that they will freeze to your skin. I love when it's warm enough to golf after league is over. I love hunting for pumpkins among sun-crisped squash vines. In short, I love last week.
This week, my friends, I do not love.