An Autumn Love Story

October is here which means fall is here which means I long for Michigan.

I love Seattle, but every year when the seasons begin to change and the smell of fall is in the air, I really miss Michigan.  I miss my family and my friends and the seasons and the friendly and the accents and the Lakes and the smells.  Each season has a distinct smell in Michigan.  You can step outside, breathe deep and know exactly the time of year.  Fall is the best, it's my favorite season, my favorite smell.  It's pumpkin pie and crisp leaves, tart apples and Halloween, thick tights and bittersweet endings, spicy bourbon and Friday night football games, family and fireplaces, chilly mornings and melancholy nights.  It's a little sad, a little disappointing, a little gray.  And then, just as quickly, it becomes warm and delicious and bright.  Sunny and shiny, chilly, but with the promise of an evening fire.

This is every day during autumn in Michigan.  It doesn't happen as often here.  It is a lucky day, and ever-so-slightly sad day, a day made for a glass of Cabernet, to smell fall here.  And then suddenly, there's that familiar tug, that pull towards the middle.

No matter where I am, no matter how deep I travel, my compass always points towards Michigan.  Always my home, forever fall.