It's 8:40 AM on a Sunday morning. My sweet, angelic daughter is still asleep. So is my sweet, angelic husband. The house is quiet, and I'm enjoying the cooler, fall air, the warmth of my morning tea and cuddling up with my brother's birthday present. It's perfect.
Fall is officially here, given our morning started with a cool 56 degrees. It's a gorgeous morning - sun shinning, sea gulls crying, the hum of traffic as quiet as it gets in NYC. I'm looking forward to a day with my family. Hopefully it will include a trip to the farmers market (which we never get to anymore), a long walk in Riverside Park, lunch out and about.
This time of year is hopelessly romantic for me. I've written about it in the past, and yet the feeling of anticipation and anxiety and possibility always takes me by surprise. We shake off the summer doldrums and reconnect with what's happening in the world, feeling like something meaningful might change. I never quite feel like I take full advantage of the fall, but hope I do better with each passing year.
And now, back to my book, the quiet, and my morning tea...
(Oh, and PS, did I mention we found a new nanny yesterday? She starts tomorrow...)
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