Fall slipped quietly through the side door a few weeks ago with its cooler, crisper air, and I didn't even notice. Usually I'm prepped and ready before our warm summer temperatures come to an end with a fresh jar of cinnamon, plenty of whole nutmegs, decorative pumpkins of all sizes, plush throws, velvet pillows and bright pots of mums. I am standing at the door waiting for its arrival, but not this year. Not only did I fail to usher in my favorite month of the year (October) with enthusiasm and fanfare, I was blindsided, as evidenced by the beach towels still stacked in the bin on the porch.
I had a few hiccups going into the season this year; namely, my mother and my husband had back-to-back health crises, which threw me into quite a spin. Both are okay now, my nervous system no longer on high alert and I am making up for lost time baking cookies and cakes, roasting every variety of winter squash I can find and putting out as many knobby little pumpkins and gourds that I can fit in decorative arrangements up the stairs and at the entryway. I absolutely love this time of year.
