My mom was always a fan of fall. As soon as the air began to get crisp, she was at her happiest. As a child, I couldn’t understand that – all I could think was that winter was coming and that I hated snow. For most of my younger years, my favorite season was spring. I loved spring for a variety of reasons, but the top two were that my birthday is in May, and spring signaled the coming end of the school year.
Years later, as an adult with small children of my own, spring held the same appeal for me. I loved seeing the school year draw to a close, because it meant more time with my kids, long summer days outdoors, ice cream cones, the beach, and all those wonderful things that came with the warm weather.
Except for one problem... I really, truly HATE to be hot. My husband jokes that I have a two degree temperature comfort level, and frankly, he’s not wrong. Temperature extremes aren’t for me. In summertime, I’m always too hot. In winter, I’m frozen. When my kids were growing up, I tolerated the heat of summer because the trade-off of extra time together was worth it.
I began to anticipate fall much the way I anticipated spring as a child. One of my kids was born in mid-October, and as she grew up, she became an avid fan of Halloween, which brought a new sense of fun to fall. During my kids’ high school years, autumn brought the promise of marching band season, and the fun of attending a “marching band game” where a little football would occasionally break out. I relished the cool evening games, where I could wrap up in a cozy coat and cheer like a lunatic.
These days, I can’t wait for the weather to start to turn cool, for the leaves to begin to color, and for that unmistakable smell of autumn to hit the air. My husband and I have a house in Vermont, and believe me when I say that I can’t imagine a more beautiful place to spend autumn. The landscape is just breathtaking, and the mornings start out frigid, warming slowly under the fall sun.
So I think you can understand that very, very little would draw me to the sweltering state of Florida during my favorite autumn months, other than perhaps a brief jaunt to Disney. But this year, I’m spending all of September and October in the Sunshine State, melting in the heat and missing the crackle of the firepit on a chilly evening. However, there’s an excellent reason to be in Florida... on September 9, my first grandchild was born in Orlando.
My daughter Caity and her husband, Hunter, welcomed their daughter, Reese Delancey Underwood, and I was lucky enough to be present at the birth. As a former maternity nurse, I’ve seen many, many births, but there’s truly nothing like watching your own grandchild enter the world, and seeing your child become a mother. My heart has been so full since Reese arrived, and I am grateful beyond words that Caity and Hunter are happy to have me stay with them for the first two months of my granddaughter’s life.
Although Reese’s parents are doing the bulk of the work, I get to cuddle, feed, soothe, and love on her whenever I like. Over the past weekend, I got up before the sun to take over so that Caity and Hunter could get some sleep, since Reese, like many newborns, has her days and nights mixed up. Those early morning hours have been among my favorite, even if they left me sleepy later in the day. The dark quiet of the house with a baby snuggled up on my shoulder is pretty much my idea of bliss.
I’m working remotely from Florida, but I must admit to running from “my” office upstairs to the downstairs family room every hour or so to scoop up Reese, kiss her and squeeze her gently, and then hand her back to one of her parents, and head upstairs to my computer.
I do realize that Reese was technically born in summer, just before the arrival of autumn, but it’s close enough... I’m going to count her as yet another reason to love the fall.
