I froze my ass off yesterday. It was supposed to be 77 degrees. So I wore a short summery skirt with a t shirt and my beloved flip flops. I think the high topped out at maybe 70, and there was a cool breeze (read: 15 mph wind) all day. I almost died of hypothermia this morning when I got up half dressed to let the dog out and watch the weather forecast.

While this may sound unmistakably like whining, it is not. I am actually quite pleased with this development. It means that before too long, I’ll be free to wear all of my favoritest most beautiful sweaters. In another month or so, fall will run down the ridges into the valleys of western North Carolina. Every commute, every errand, every glimpse out the kitchen window will be an invitation to mother nature’s free show. The afternoons will be comfortable if not warm, but the nights will be crisp and chilly, and every once in awhile, I’ll catch a whiff of the snowfall that may already be falling on the ridgetops, waiting patiently for it’s opportunity to settle into the high valley our little farm house sits in.

Colder weather means fall food. Look for an upswing in unlikely cook posts as the change of seasons allows me to experiment with heavier meals and my beloved soups. It’s kind of hard to work much on soups when it’s eighty degrees in your kitchen before you turn the stove on. Also? Thanksgiving. Fried turkey. Cranberry mold. Cornbread dressing. Squash casserole. I could go on and on.

September still has some life left in it, and we are not immune to a little bit of Indian summer. But this first actual cold front, these first chilly nights and crisp mornings and never-warmed-up afternoons? A delightful harbinger of what’s to come.