I have a confession:
I really miss Vermont.
I've come to really enjoy living in Pittsburgh (which is a way better city than most people realize. While it may have been a gross industrial town 100 or 50 years ago, it has transformed into a lovely, livable city with lots to do for a college kid like me) with its public transportation, a Whole Foods, and lovely public libraries, but the arrival of fall really makes me wish I were back in the Green Mountain State.
While in Vermont I may have to drive 35 minutes in my family's lovely minivan to meet a friend on Church St for coffee and a walk in the woods requires a fluorescent jacket to ensure that the neighbors don't shoot me, I get to look out my bedroom window and see some simply marvelous views. These aren't actually what I see (I can't exactly take pictures right now of my yard seeing as I'm 600 miles away), but the colors are dead on. Those fiery oranges, brilliant reds, and golden yellows are as close to natural beauty as it gets, and every trip to the grocery store is an opportunity to travel through valleys and hills that are absolutely dripping with color.
After a few short weeks, these colors fade, and the leaves fall to the damp earth below, where it is up to me to step on them and elicit a satisfying crunch with each step. Eventually enough of them have come down that it's time to bring out the rakes and create enormous piles to jump in to. I never think about the possible worms or spiders or whatever gross, evil things could be lurking in these piles; it's all about the crunch and swoosh of the masses of leaves.
But after it becomes too cold to go outside without approximately 12 layers on and the sky becomes a solid color of gray and not one leaf remains on any tree, I can happily leave this behind. My poor circulation means that I don't do well in such a wintry climate, and it's really here that I've distanced myself from Vermont.
While stupid school doesn't allow me to go back for autumn, I can remember it like this and forget about the sub-zero mornings and dirt roads. But for now I'll just plug away at my chemistry homework, listening to Grace Potter & the Nocturnals (Vermont homegrown lovelies that they are) mixed with the sad drizzle of Pittsburgh rain.