By far my favorite season is fall. There is a relief from the summer heat, a crispness to the air, a growing warmth to homes. In many ways, I find a newness, a beginning, in fall. Perhaps it is that fall signifies a new school year, or perhaps it is inching closer and closer to the holidays, whatever it may be, I revel in it’s wonder.

The girls are tucked away in bed, Jonathan is out riding his motorcycle and I am sitting on the porch, listening to the crickets call, reading through Midwest Living and enjoying the chill in the air. Apple pie, hot cider, pumpkins and fall leaves are dwelling in my mind. I am daydreaming about a family roadtrip through southern Iowa to see the changing leaves, explore hidden towns and capture memories.

Perhaps that is just it. Fall is like a memory that is ever sweet. Fall speaks of families huddled together around bonfires. Reuniting with friends after a long summer’s break. An ability to enjoy the outdoors more leisurely. Fall speaks of warm pies and my mom’s homemade potpourri. Fall speaks of endless possibilities.

While there is still, deep within me, the desire to move back home to Texas, it would be difficult to part with an Iowan fall. The apple orchards, hay rides, pumpkin patches and cool evening nights. It’s times like this, nights like tonight, that I know, Iowa is and could always be, home.