It’s starting to get cold. Not “teeth-chattering, I-can’t-feel-my-nose, this-has-too-many-hyphens” cold, but quite brisk. Or as the East Coasters say it, “crisp”. I have learned that when someone from the Northeast says, “crisp”, a lot of times, there’s someone from the south or west coast lying on the ground with hypothermia. Personally, I love it. I was walking to work and saw nice coats and scarves everywhere. There were people alternating between blowing on coffee and taking tiny sips to try to trap that dwindling bit of heat from the cup into their chilly bodies. The leaves haven’t exploded in color yet, but I’m sure that’s coming and I truly can’t wait to walk through Central Park and be bombarded with gold and red and auburn. And oh, the pumpkin. THE PUMPKIN. I can smell it every once in awhile when I pass the bakery on the way to work and SNR has been making pumpkin bread this week. I have flashes of Halloween and Thanksgiving and not having to mow the lawn anymore because it’s dead. ❤ These are some of the reasons I moved out here. There are a million more, but to not have experienced a real autumn in my entire life would have been a tragedy.