Why Fall is My Season

Fall is golden and crisp. The weather shifts from chilly to sublimely warm and back to cold. The nights are cool. The mornings are foggy. The city is still clean before winter’s soggy blanket covers the streets. People’s cheeks are pink and their eyes smile with the remembrance of summer on their backs. Scarves and gloves come out of the stashed storage spots. I am comfortable inside on the couch looking out and I love being outside looking in. The splash of colors everyone talks about is a slow evolution that I watch on my walk to work. Spiders spin their webs across anything that is static for more than a few minutes. Fall is my season.

Gearing up for Fall and Winter

This morning I woke up to fall. Our bedroom window is cracked and a crisp breeze is blowing in; a 180 degree switch from yesterday’s heat. A few leaves have even blown through the window onto the coverlet. Today I’ll be gearing up for an Oregon fall/winter by brainstorming new craft ideas and heading over to the Polish Festival/Alberta St for some food, dancing (polka anyone?) and merriment. Then onto a friend’s house for boardgames and pizza. Fall is my most favorite season because of the cool breezes, the leaf color explosions and the onset of crafting. I find that a wet Oregon fall and winter are best conquered with homemade soups, sewing, embroidering, felting and reading. My recent crafts include:

Inspiration: Felt Flowers, Twine Light Covers, Bunting, Necklace Display

A Treehouse Hotel

Every fall while I was growing up in Salem, I would love to play outside. There are a handful of magnificent days in Oregon each year that areĀ perfectly crisp in the morning and then heat up throughout the day until people dress in their summers and then as the sun goes down, all those bare legs and shoulders are caught off-guard by the freezing air. I live for those days. Today was supposed to be the last of them for awhile, but the sun is hanging on and I want to play outside.

One of my primary outdoor activities growing up was working on my fort. The fort was located in the backyard under the plum tree, behind the blackberry bushes and next to the neighbor’s rotting wood fence. It always smelled like damp leaves decomposing and I filled it with broken kitchenware from my mom and a great deal of imagination. I think this tree hotel in Sweden has the fort feel for grown ups and I would love to visit!