Summer

I love Autumn. No season other season makes me so happy, so retrospective, so comfortable. No other season's wardrobe gives me such delight. Autumn is uniquely loved by me for all its spices and smells and textures and colors. Typically, I am the first to try to rush the season, giving my poor Summer-loving husband reason to doubt that we really are compatable. Poor, poor man.

For the first time in my life of Autumn-adoration, I had to scold someone for ushering in the new season too early. I felt an instant affinity for Jon. We were sitting at a baseball game on a gloriously warm Summer night earlier this week when the offending comment was made and I felt an unfamiliar sense of protection for Summer's ebbing days flow over me. Viva la Summer! Bring on the heat! We've waited long enough for it and now that its here I want a chance to enjoy it before I sip my first Pumpkin Spice Latte and resign myself to sweaters and puddles.

Here's the rub: After defending Summer's right to continue as planned, spouting on about how I'm just not ready to give up water fights and blackberries and iced americanos, the thought of Fall was planted. If I'm perfectly honest, the niggling has started. Pretty soon it will become an undeniable longing for the cozy warmth of Autumn. I'm fighting, but its a loosing battle.

In deference to the man who works in the rain for me all in all sorts of dismal WA weather, I will restrain myself from lauding the coming of the best season of the year until the first week of September. It only seems kind.

I love Summer.
I love Autumn more.