Fall is many things; the pathway to winter, the golden gates to Thanksgiving and Halloween, and also the bright shiny road to the anticipation of Christmas. It is also my favorite season. Definitively, fall is my favorite because of the sweater weather and sense of peace about it. The sense that, no matter what, the trees will lose their golden coats only to grow them back in spring. Almost like a Phoenix from the ashes. Fall, to me, describes mortality, but also new life.

Besides the poetic magic of it, fall is my all-time favorite season because of what it does to the trees. First, they’ll slowly change colors, almost like a chameleon, until their whole coat is a soft shade of fall colors. Then crisp air will slip through the branches and shake them free of red, gold, and bright yellow leaves, tipping them softly to the cold ground. Once there, our feet will nuzzle them into the earth with a loud crunch. The sound they make when I step on them is more satisfying than anything else, and the way the ground looks with all the different colored leaves reminds me of an ombre quilt.

Like the trees, the wind is a source of beauty to me, too. It’s cold, yes, and bites at your nose, ears, and mouth, but it also slips into your lungs, tasting like new life. The way it makes mist when you exhale is like you’re dispelling all the bad and breathing in the good. Not only that, but it also prompts you to break out the sweaters, my favorite form of apparel. Sweaters are an immense comfort to me because of how warm they make me feel; I’ll slip my hands inside the sleeves for more warmth and sometimes press my chin into the soft wool if it’s a turtleneck. For many months to come, I’ll be safe and warm in my sweaters as the hard, whimsical wind bites at me.

Another thing I love is the anticipation of Thanksgiving. One of my favorite holidays, Thanksgiving, to me, is all about family. Food, too, of course. My absolute favorite smell of fall is turkey in the oven, bubbly gravy on the stove, and the spicy scent of pumpkin pie baking away, all ready by the time dinner is to start. Eating the delicious food makes me full, but not more so than the togetherness you feel around this holiday. Sitting at the table and declaring all we’re thankful for is a surefire way to get your spirits up and keep them high even days after. Falls satisfaction never seems to go away; even after winter arrives and the wind turns unforgiving, blaring in your ears like a constant tornado, you still have the memory in your head. Of people piled around a table, smelling candles full of fall and talking about what you love about each other. Thanksgiving always seems to be a taste of Christmas, minus the presents, and makes you more than excited about the holiday season. 

Even when I was small, fall has been my favorite season. I was too young to declare how poetic it was once it ended, but I still loved it: For the playing in the leaves, running against the wind, and the appreciation of family. Sure, maybe it seems stupid to pack all of this gushy stuff into one cold season. Talking about poetry and quilted leaves, but feeling something during any time of the year is a sign that we are alive. That, maybe, someday we’ll be gone, but we’re here now, feeling, loving, and being kind. The only hope I have is that I’ll live each season to the brightest and fullest it can be.