September was always my favorite month, I just never knew it. Being a teacher made me long for the summer merely for the time off. Ordinarily, the only thing I love about summer is the long days. I hate everything else. The heat, the sweating, the beach, the bugs, the shorts, the wet bathing suits, the sticky popsicle fingers- I hate it all. My perfect temperature would be 65. My favorite accessory, a cardigan sweater. My ideal beverage would be hot, the most endearing fragrance is cinnamon. There is nothing more beautiful than New York City in the fall. I look best in reds, oranges, yellows and browns. It’s the most perfect time for food consumption- it’s the end of the tomatoes and corn, the beginning of the second round of greens, the squash, the pumpkins, the brussel sprouts, apples and plums. Everything just smells yummy.
My love of September has been marred by brainstorming new and creative ways to teach a research paper ( there aren’t any), breaking in new heels, panicking about progress reports, practicing secretive eye-rolls for faculty meetings and mentally preparing myself for the characters who will find their way into the seats in my classroom. I watched the turn of the leaves from the dirty window in the back corner that always leaked during a rainstorm. The only smell that permeated my clothes in September was the chili dogs in the cafeteria, new pencils and whatever 6 gallons of cologne my students seemed to subscribe to that year and all must have taken turns rolling around in in the hallway before walking through the door into my classroom.
Not this year.
This year, my September will be full of baby smiles, bottles of Dreft and little,patin leather shoes. My kitchen will be over-flowing with the last harvest of tomatoes waiting to be stewed and frozen for sauce- ahhh hemmm, gravy-throughout the winter, cucumbers, carrots and grapes in line patiently to be pickled and berries ripe for jam. I will bake apple and pumpkin EVERYTHING. We will sit outside on our patio and feed the chiminea to keep our toes warm when the sun goes in. I’ll wear sweaters and re-read the entire Harry Potter series over again in anticipation for the day I get to read it aloud to my daughter. I’ll write a little. Or a lot. Some stories. Some songs. Some novels. Some memoirs. Some blogs. I have a lot to say, it seems. We’ll have dinner parties with friends- ones that require a decent pair of pants and a better than 10.00 bottle of wine. We’ll start drinking Oktoberfest beer because, well, now is the time you should be doing that, if you really enjoy Oktoberfest, that is. I will make a list of house projects that need to be accomplished before the winter. I’ll, hopefully, watch my kid start to crawl as she’s wanted to for the last few weeks. And I will not, for one second, wish I were anywhere else. Not even a little bit.
I have always loved September. This year, I’m going to let it love me back.