Autumn is, without a doubt, my favorite season and yet, there is a twinge of sadness in my heart as we bid adieu to summer. The memories collected this season have been beyond wonderful. My heart is still warm from days spent under the European sun and my soul forever hums with the song of cicadas and al fresco nights. There is an effortless, unique beauty to it all. Memories of summertime rest differently on my heart, scorched in my mind through sunflared squints and flashes of moments that feel more like someone else's life than my own. And in turn, my farewell to the season feels more palpable than others. Summer days slipping into autumn nights are undeniable, regretful in a way. As though you did not live enough. Do enough. Almost desperate. A feeling like it may never happen again. In contrast, the transition from autumn to winter and spring to summer feels more gentle. Quiet. The change comes on slowly, like waking up on a Sunday morning. But the end of summer… It feels dramatic.

As the September light washes over the lingering days of summer, I am reminded just how perfect each season can be. The final flush of the garden with its determined blooms and the concluding burst of produce all write the closing sentences to the chapter entitled ‘summer’, a season facing its final bow of the year. These quiet days before the arrival of autumn are full of splendor and reflection. A collection of moments to be transformed into memories, flavors begging to be preserved and safely tucked away, patiently waiting to be cherished once life has settled into the depth of our upcoming season of hibernation. September is a beautiful finale… A golden tasseled curtain call for summer.

In the early days of September, the essence of autumn begins to take hold. As we drift into this next season, I am keeningly aware that my palate has savored its final drops of summer while daydreams of crackling fires, mugs of hot cider and the crunch of fallen leaves underfoot begin to take shape. Summertime was full of sunkissed afternoons and salty sea breeze evenings, a beautiful collection of moments preserved in my heart for seasons to come. But soon, the aperol spritz will be replaced by le chocolat chaud, tan lines will fade under chunky knit sweaters and cheeks will be rosied by crisp morning air rather than flushed by the heat of the sun. Simply put, it is my most favorite time of the year.