It's dark out and the wind has stopped. I open the door to let Mack out and there is a cool air seeping in. I slide on my slippers, wrap my sweater tightly around me and step outside. The air is cold and I can almost smell frost. This cool frosty weather evokes a sense of magic. There's something about that first smell of frost on a falls eve that excites me and also makes me long for home.
Perhaps it's because I grew up there but New England is a magical place. It's a place where you fully experience all four seasons. You grow up reading books about the seasons and seeing pictures drawn of children swimming in summer, picking flowers in spring, jumping in leaves in fall and building a snow man in winter. I was lucky enough to understand and relate to each one of those photos.
That cool crisp air fills my lungs and a sad but humbling longing fills my heart. Memories of a happy childhood and earlier years filled with this fall magic consume my thoughts and begin to warm me up. I go inside to seek warm comfort and hibernate for the night.
I put the kettle on, a daily sometimes twice daily occurrence at my house, and I turn on the beautiful sounds of baroque classical. I light a fall candle and breath in the all too familiar comforting smells of home. I take out some home made molasses cookie dough from the fridge and plop 6 teaspoon size balls onto a lined sheet. 10 minutes pass…the cookies are hot and ready for eating. My tea has boiled and steeped. I wrap a warm knit blanket around myself and snuggle down into my couch with my tea and two cookies. A little me time to reflect on the beautiful gift of the changing of the seasons.