Sharing stories of food stories we love.
My alarm goes off at 6:30 AM, but I’m already mostly awake. I’m letting my eyes adjust to the room and considering just how much effort it will take to peel back the comforter, get up, and open the heavy floor-length curtains that block the light from the French doors on one side of the bedroom.
I like to pull them open and stay in bed for a bit, watching the sky brighten slowly over the treetops, touching each of the brownstones on the street one by one.
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The days have rapidly grown colder in the past week. On Sunday, out on Long Island, it was still warm enough to end my morning run at the dock and sit, legs crossed, with my face tilted up to the sun. After a minute of some truly pathetic attempts at vigorous stretching, I took a deep breath and untied my shoes and shimmied down the ladder to dunk my head—whoosh—under the surface of the water, glinting like diamonds in the sunlight. It wasn’t terribly frigid yet, but it was cold enough to make me gasp, scrabbling for the edges of the ladder and climbing out to shake the droplets from my wet hair.
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L.M. Montgomery wrote, “I’m so glad to live in a world where there are Octobers” and I couldn’t agree more. As with any change in season, the first few moments whisper new and old at the same time —they’re a shift from the previous weeks, but still so achingly familiar. I feel a stirring around every corner in October, my heart swelling when I step outside to take a run and the air feels as crisp as a brand new dollar bill. I look for autumn everywhere. There’s a little boy beside me in Duane Reade, earnestly eyeing the Halloween candy display. I almost lean down to say, “between you and me, Almond Joy really gets a bad rap” but I’ll let him spend years coveting miniature Snickers and Twix before he reaches that very mature conclusion.
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The first few weeks of September could easily wear the crown of my favorite of the year. The air is cooler in the mornings; it’s not quite crisp yet, but it’s getting there. I wear a long-sleeved shirt on my early morning runs, but it’s warm enough that I strip down to a tank top as soon as I enter the park and jog onto the main path. Once out of the shade of the tree-lined edges of the park, sunshine floods the road ahead and I feel a light sheen of sweat on my skin.
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Well, it’s been a minute hasn’t it? I won’t bore you with the usual routine of I meant to sit down and write every day for the past month, but then I went to the beach and accidentally spent four hours paddleboarding in the sun or I started to tell you all about this incredible cookie recipe but then I got distracted eating all the cookie dough off the spoon with a friend in the kitchen as we debated the relative merits of every season of Friends.
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