“How beautiful the leaves grow old…” John Burroughs

Fall is undoubtedly my favorite season. I love the cool air, the colors of the leaves, the smells of pumpkin and apple, hot drinks and comfort food. It’s one of the best feelings when I can finally feel the summer air slip away and give way to the brisk fall breeze. Yet, autumn is also the start of my seasonal depression. I can’t stand that it gets dark so early, and there is a fine line between cute chilly fall weather and I-don’t-want-to-leave-my-house-because-it’s-too-f***ing-cold fall weather. In New York especially, there is a very brief period of aesthetic autumn weather and activity until the inevitable long, dreary, windy winter that lasts until almost April. So, I am clinging to the happiness early fall brings to my life. This love/hate relationship will last for the rest of my life I fear. And yet the fleeting moments of pure joy it brings me is like an addicting drug– I can’t stop loving it.