Everyone ought to refer to the season as autumn instead of fall. It’s so much prettier and rolls off the tongue so much nicer. Fall just doesn’t quite have the words to describe something as perfect as autumn does. There’s a perfection to the season of autumn. A balance. A satisfaction in its arrival. For some, it’s the promise of a fresh new school year or the nearing of the winter holidays. For those with good taste, however, it’s the feeling.   

Fall is the changing of seasons after summer. Autumn is a brilliant blur of overbearingly bright greens fading into muted oranges, reds, yellows, and browns that makes looking out one’s window in the morning all the easier on the eyes. 

Fall is chilly. Autumn is the continuous fight between the crisp breeze’s bite and the toasty warm shield of one’s sweater and the inconsistency of temperature throughout your body gives you goosebumps that remind you you’re still alive. 

Fall is when leaves come off trees. Autumn is when pieces of life drop drop drop away into piles of colorful crumpled skeletons that will be played in by children and soon covered in snowy blankets once winter rears its bitter head.  

Fall has Thanksgiving. Autumn is a heartwarming time when friends and family can say the kindest and sweetest things they dare not pull from their walled-off hearts on any other occasion.  

Fall is spooky.  Autumn is the era of the friendly old black cat- a time when ghostly spirits and children intertwine hands to walk together in good fun for one night.

Fall is aesthetic. Autumn is walking to the local coffee shop with a loved one and hiding your smile behind your scarf as they hold their hand in yours to keep it warm…and hoping they don’t let go.   

Fall is a season. 

Autumn is a home. 

And that’s why it’s my favorite time of the year.