I'm still wearing my summer sandals, but I can feel the seasons shifting. Night's are a little cooler, everything looks a little less green. My mother always felt sad in the fall, the end of summer gardens and hollow bird calls preparing for the winter ahead. It's bitter sweet for me, of course apple pies and rust colored leaves and pumpkins galore are heaven, but it's hard to say goodbye to another season and another year.
When I was in school I always had a lot of nervous anticipation around this time; leaving behind bare feet and long days for new classes and text books and friends. When I started at my first real job out of college at a big architectural firm, someone asked me 'are you here for the summer?' and I stammered back with 'no... I'm um...staying...', he laughed and offered 'staying forever?'. I said yes, but the thought of committing to the same place day after day without that fresh start each fall was terrifying. I immediately applied to graduate school.
Once I settled into a job that I really loved I realized that it wasn't really as frightening as I had thought, but I did miss a clear marker of time. Years slipped by and it was hard to separate where one ended and the next began.
Now that I have a small child, the passage of time has never been more clearly documented. He isn't in school yet, but he is growing and changing so quickly that I look at these pictures above from less than a year ago and think, really? It seems as though he's been toddling at my heals forever but he wasn't even walking last year at this time. Each season brings a completely new set of adventures and lessons and it's exciting and frightening all at once.
I'm getting ready for those apple pies, heavy socks, and cozy fires. I'm thinking about projects with leaves (hoping Lauren keeps the inspiration rolling) and looking forward to my favorite Shipyard Pumpkin Ale. First I just have to eat a few more tomatoes.
*more pictures from this day originally posted here