autumn's sweet, we call it fall.

While getting dressed this morning, I put on the staple items of jeans and a T-shirt, but didn't know what more to add. Looking up the forecast on weather.com as I religiously do, I learned it was only 59 degrees outside despite the gorgeous sun shining through the window blinds. As a result, I reached into the scarf bin in my closet for the first time since I've moved home. Regardless, I still left the house in flip-flops and without a sweater of any sort, but the scarf really triggered something in me.

With September already half over, I can just picture Burlington, Vermont in all its foliage glory. I've spent the past five winters stubbornly exclaiming, "I'm from California, I don't DO cold!" yet when the fall rolls around, I push aside the notion of what the coming months of January and February will bring and bask in the magic that is the northeast autumn. Vermont autumns are the perfect mix of sunny yet crisp days, bathed in phenomenal shades of gold, burgundy, and neon oranges and yellows. There's something so cozy and fuzzy about that first time you pull out the wool socks, the fluffy scarves, the perfectly fitted knit hats, and the warm fleeces and soft cotton sweatshirts and head out to get a steaming cup of coffee to hold in your hands.

It is still warm here in Marin, and while we will get those crisp days weeks later than the northeast, it definitely won't be the same. I will soak up the long summer while I can and enjoy California for what it is, but in the back of my mind, I am secretly craving a fresh September morning in the place that I had come to call home over the past few years.