It is that time of year again. The temperature is dropping; the days of one hundred plus degree afternoons are long gone. The thermometer steadily stays between eighty and ninety degrees, which is all you can ask for from fall in the South. The leaves are changing, football rules the airways, and pumpkin spice lattes are taking over coffee shop menus. As of Sept. 22, fall graced us with its presence.
I am from South Georgia: the land where wearing flip-flops and shorts until Thanksgiving is normal. At home, summer continues until November or so and then all of a sudden winter is upon you. And by winter I mean forty degrees.
It is safe to say that I had never experienced anything remotely resembling fall until I came to Harding.
Road trips in October and November never bore me because of the beautiful scenery. Who knew that leaves were other colors besides green (or brown because they have died.) I am sure I annoy my passengers with endless gawking at the red and orange leaves. I am sorry that I think they make the perfect backdrop against a clear blue sky for a drive through the countryside.
And what about fall fashion? I had no idea that boots were staple footwear. Black, brown, knee-high boots, mid-calf boots, ankle boots, I was overwhelmed by all of the choices. And do not get me started on the idea that you could need more than one pair of boots at a time. Who knew? My fall wardrobe growing up consisted of summer clothes with a light jacket thrown on for the morning.
Besides boots, I have whole-heartedly embraced the scarf and cardigan combination. So what if I own twenty cardigans now? That’s normal right? With as cold as they keep the Benson and classrooms, I make good use of sweaters year round, but now it is acceptable to wear them all day long without getting strange looks.
My last, but certainly not least, favorite part about fall would have to be pumpkin spice lattes. It is like drinking your Thanksgiving dessert. The smell of pumpkin, cinnamon and nutmeg warms my heart. Even though you can secretly order this year round at most coffee shops, something just does not seem right about a pumpkin spice latte in July.
While the thermometer has not made up its mind yet, I will put on my boots, pour a steaming hot pumpkin spice latte into my favorite mug and go in search of a pile of crunchy leaves to jump in.
