Making Room for Fall

I'm writing this to you on Sunday evening - from the quietness of the stairs where I've hidden while Ryan finishes watching the Seahawks/Broncos game. I don't understand football {as I have told you many times}, so my ignorance over the actual sport forces me to find connections to this fine game in other ways. Namely I get hung up on the stories of the people. And when the people let the ugly get the best of them, I find myself ruffled as though the offenses had taken place against me personally.

And so it is that I cannot bring myself to watch the Seahawks. They are far too aggressive for my scaredy-cat little tastes, and though I have few requests in the world of football, I have requested that they not play in our home. But Ryan's desire to watch the Broncos overrode my desire to NOT have the Seahawks on, so for the first time in our married life, we've retreated to separate rooms. He's soaking up the game and I'm yapping to you!

And we don't like it. So hopefully these two won't play again for a long, long time, and then we don't have to worry about it.

Football is, of course, one of the many signs that fall is here. I do love fall, though I didn't want to see the mums and Halloween garb out until Labor Day was behind me. But now that the time is appropriate, I am embracing fall in all its glory, and this weekend, I made a place for it here in our home.

Christmas is my favorite season for decorations, but fall is a close second. I love dragging the fall tubs out of the attic and digging in to unearth the tiny bales of straw, the Indian corn, the little cornstalk basket I found - at the dollar store, of all places - and the myriad of fake pumpkins that have found their way into my fall collection over the years.

Much like the sights of Christmas are my favorite {the sparkles and lights}...the smells of fall are my favorite. The pumpkin pie spice and the cinnamon and the faint whiff of apples {buried in some sort of crisp, of course} bring me so much happiness. The lingering smoke of a bonfire and the distinct smell of wet raked leaves {so long as I didn't have to rake them, of course}.

Fall is a time for flannel sheets and sweatshirts, for family photo shoots and visits to the pumpkin patch, and I love all those things.

I caught up the pages of our scrapbook earlier...and while doing so, caught the memories of the days we spent at the lake, which seem not mere weeks ago, but months ago. Summer was way too short and way too distant this year. I didn't fully get to embrace it like I'd hoped. So I'm eager to welcome fall. A new season. A new chance to make memories. Ones that smell like cinnamon and apple pie.