Fall/Winter Confusion
I don't know where fall is. It doesn't feel like winter is around the corner. By this time every year, it smells like winter. The cold, prickly feeling gets in your nose. The air almost smells like pine and Christmas tree fir.
It gets me in the mood. It makes me think of turkey and stuffing and big Thanksgiving dinners. It signals my birthday is coming. It means I'm going to open some pretty spiffy gifts for Christmas after seeing everyone open mine.
I smell winter and I go for my slippers and fuzzy socks. I wear a comfy sweatshirt and sweatpants (or pajama pants if I'm feeling extra lazing, and I am). I sit on the couch with a blanket and drag out the hot chocolate, the hot tea, and sometimes the hot coffee (and that last slice of pumpkin pie).
Oh, fall, where are you? Why doesn't my world smell like winter this year?
(Because 56 degrees does not a Chicago November make.)
It gets me in the mood. It makes me think of turkey and stuffing and big Thanksgiving dinners. It signals my birthday is coming. It means I'm going to open some pretty spiffy gifts for Christmas after seeing everyone open mine.
I smell winter and I go for my slippers and fuzzy socks. I wear a comfy sweatshirt and sweatpants (or pajama pants if I'm feeling extra lazing, and I am). I sit on the couch with a blanket and drag out the hot chocolate, the hot tea, and sometimes the hot coffee (and that last slice of pumpkin pie).
Oh, fall, where are you? Why doesn't my world smell like winter this year?
(Because 56 degrees does not a Chicago November make.)