So, it’s fall (sorta) and I haven’t done one fall thing yet. I really want to get into this fall thing, you know? Go to Julian and eat apple pie. Maybe even pick some darn apples! (where do you do that, by the way? I’m ashamed to ask, I’ve lived here most of my life and have never. been. apple. picking.) I want to sit in coffee shops and drink lattes with cinnamon and chocolate shavings on top and watch the pouring rain outside, and sketch in my notebook (okay, that will never happen because I am so not a sketchist). I want to buy multiple beanies, one for each day, and wear wellies and stomp in puddles. Rake up fallen leaves into a giant pile and jump in them (that one hurts, by the way, not as soft as the movies lead you to believe, I don’t recommend). I want to wear thigh high wool socks and chunky knit mittens. Make homemade soups and take long, hot baths. I want to stare out my balcony window and watch for lightening in the many thunderstorms we get here in San Diego (aka none).
See, that’s the problem. We’re in SAN DIEGO. Where fall doesn’t really happen like it does everywhere else. It’s still almost 80 degrees every day here, I hear a hot spell is coming this weekend. We get seasons about 2-3 months later than everyone else, if they come at all. I’m just jonesing for some fall, though! I want to force it. Pretend it’s here and wear fall clothes and do fall things! But then I’m just sweaty and miserable and everyone looks at me stupid.
What a conundrum.