pumpkin pie.

There is something about the smells of fall that makes me feel absolutely compelled to write. Right now, it's pumpkin.
Today I smelled a pumpkin candle and instantly was transported to the giant pumpkin contest at the fair near my hometown. Then I walked down the dusty paths, amidst the flashing lights and sounds of the ferris wheel for hot apple cider. I pulled my sweater up to shield my neck from the brisk fall breeze, and realized I was just in the craft store.
I bought the candle and now the scent, the fair, the whole idea of autumn is with me in my bedroom. Maybe I'm being overly sentimental, but something about the impending New England fall fills me with anticipation and excitement akin to those suffering from spring fever.
I've felt this way about fall for as long as I can remember, but it's not until now that I feel old enough to wax poetic about it. And I'm not that old, but there is something extra exciting about this being the first fall I can celebrate my birthday with pumpkin beer.

Or, it could be the fact that an ex-New Kid on the Block will be performing at that fair this year...