WHY I CAN’T FALL IN LOVE WITH FALL

I often hear people refer to autumn as their favorite holiday. They wax poetic about the leaves changing color, the crisp cold air that’s “good sleeping weather,” apple picking and making hard cider, and how much they love pumpkin spiced lattes.

Uggh.

Give me flip-flops and sultry nights, ice-cold drinks sweating in their glasses and tomatoes warm from the vine. Give me extra hours of sunlight and falling asleep in the hammock with a book, boat rides and lakes of cold water to jump into when you get too hot.  I suppose I recoil at all the love being thrown at autumn because I know that a cold winter is soon to follow and although I enjoy winter in small spurts, it’s a long stretch of increasingly short daylight and bitter mornings that doesn’t exactly make me jump for joy.

All of which is rather a shame, since I live and co-own a business in a ski town. Actually, the ski town thing is great (actually the rafting-mountain-biking-hiking-kayaking-ski town thing is awesome). It’s just that the appeal of snowboarding starts to wear thin come the middle of March when you realize it isn’t going to be really truly warm again until June. I guess until barVino Belize becomes a reality (I dream of 2020 on a beach), I just have to buy another pair of cute winter boots, check out the HEATTECH line at Uniqlo and take my soup-making game to the next level.