Normally I’m knee-deep in pumpkins and pinecones this time of year. But with yet another 85 degree day upon us, I just haven’t found my autumn decorating groove. It feels too much like summer.
The most I’ve been able to muster is some mums, a wreath and a trio of pumpkins for the front porch.
The boyfriend took it a step further, posing a skeleton on our bench.
Apparently he’s resting after some grueling yard work (and possibly a groin injury?).
I used to love a good, long Indian summer. I still enjoy warm weather, but I think I’ve been spoiled by our visits to New York City during the past two Octobers. We fell in love with fall on the East Coast, where it was already coat weather and the leaves blazed red and orange in Central Park, along the Potomac on a side trip to Washington D.C. and – of course – in Sleepy Hollow, the namesake setting of Washington Irving’s classic tale.
Nothing puts me in the Halloween mindset quite like the Legend of Sleepy Hollow, whether it’s the book, the Disney cartoon or the Tim Burton film. And nothing says autumn quite like old buildings, creepy scarecrows and cemeteries.
Maybe I just need to go traipsing around in a local graveyard to find my Halloween spirit.