Fall in Long Beach

I'm back in the land of no seasons. Or, at the very least, the land of very obscure, sublime, and subtle seasons. I have to make a concerted effort to make myself feel like I'm experiencing the seasons, for to be without the mere impression of seasons is for Melody's mind to turn into chocolate pudding. I sincerely hope we can all agree that is NOT desirable.

So I've been flavoring the air around me with the scents of autumn. Literally with apples and cinnamon, abstractly with a new burnt orange purse, and gastronomically with pumpkin waffles and beef stew.

I am blessed to have a tree on my property that has the decency to lose it's leaves at this time of year. It can't figure out how to make them turn orange, yellow, or red before shedding, but it makes up for that lack by being big enough to spread it's autumnal joy quite a far distance.

Hey, I'll take what I can get.