The end of Summer. What marks the end of a season begins my favorite time of each year: Autumn. September through November. Fall. I look forward to it increasingly as Summer presses on. But once Labor Day hits, I wait no longer. It is the glorious beginning of Fall. Even if the weather says otherwise, I am ready to zip into a hoodie or pop on a sweater and cozy up to a book, to draw, or to write. It just feels right.
I can just do without so much of this infusion of pumpkin spice into everything.