Letting go...and holding on.

I'm always really ready for the change in seasons.  I don't think I could handle living in a place where the four seasons are non-existent.  I rely on the predictability and the comfort of knowing that fall will surrender to winter, winter will melt into spring, spring will warm into summer, and summer will fade to fall.  However, this year has been different.  I'm finding that I am in denial that there's a chill in the air.  Example: I'm still wearing flip flops to work.  I don't want to admit that Farmer's Market is closing.  Example: I trudged through the snow this past Saturday to buy a butternut squash and a crate full of apples.  Moving the deck furniture and flower baskets inside is more than I can bear.  To turn on the heat will mean admitting defeat.  Up until tonight, I've been shuddering at the idea of fall and have pushed my mind past all thoughts of it.  

Then I talked to Kate, my friend in Seattle.  ("My friend in Seattle" does not do my friendship with Kate justice, but I'll save those stories for another post.)  Even from a distance, I could smell the pumpkin chocolate chip bread she baked this weekend.  I could imagine baking with her all day in the warm, cozy kitchen, and sampling everything twice, to make sure it was just right.  We'd stay up late talking, laughing, and sipping Shiraz and wake up early the next morning to take a walk and breathe the crisp air.   

Somewhere between talking to Kate about pumpkin chocolate chip bread and enormous batches of homemade organic applesauce, I realized I was ready to let go.