When I was a kid, fall was always my favorite time of year. I loved the new schools supplies, the seemingly endless potential of a new school year, and anticipation of the coming holidays. Fall was my season.
When I worked in student activities, fall was always my most dreaded time of year. I worked in higher education, and as such, my fall was full of late night student events, meetings, and work commitments. I finally moved into a less stressful, lower paying job the fall I worked three months in a row without a weekend off. Fall was my burden.
Once I demoted myself, I made a commitment to regain fall as a season. I called 2007 my "FOF"-- fall of freedom. We pumpkin patched, hot-air-ballooned, and fall festival-ed our booties off. But that first FOF was hampered by my health problems, my resulting anxiety, and then by recovery from major surgery. Fall was my trial.
Now that I am staying at home with the kids, fall has regained some of its former luster for me. I reveled in buying Noise's school supplies. I gingerly marked every individual crayon, marker, and scissor for my kids. We've trudged through pumpkin patches, apple orchards, and parades all over our county. We've baked and s'mored and walked in the woods as a rainbow of leaves gave up their fight all around us. We've cheered on our football teams, fired up the fire pit, feasted on the first soups of the season. Fall is my home.
I have fallen in love again, with fall.