Ah, sweet autumn. Often staved off by clinging tan lines and rushed along by jingle bells, you might just be the most underrated quarter of the year. But with a fresh slate at the start, a smattering of costume and food focused holidays, and a remarkable ability to bring out the inner emo poet of my youth, your months are far more magical than most. You entice the whole of New England into smokey scents and pumpkin flavors. Your pale skies give way to a fiery splatter of morphing treetops. Your crisp wind plucks leaves to the ground, acorns tumble under toe. Undertoe fades from feeling until next summer as waves are observed from the safety of warm sweaters. Farmer’s markets take shelter, early sunsets coax the world inside. Your time is to rest, to nest, let cozy manifest. Quite simply, you are the best.
Oh, October. Sweet month of change. Temperatures finally dropping, but the sky does not yet fade. A dark bar incites its usual existential sound; crunchy brussels and and fluffy hummus abound. A bright breakfast expands palettes into poaching, Nick’s eggs + veggies do the experimental coaching. A weekend date requires little more than borrowed beanies and held mitts: a westside going golden and freshly layered knits. Dusty vintage rockets provoke one too many sneezes, strip-shouldered mannequins provide warm woolen squeezes. Grocery store hide-and-seek yields new plant babes and boo Sunday snacks. Portuguese fado follows carefully unplanned naps. Beanfriend makes soups, 90s Bourdain loops. Welcome, Dear Autumn, we’ve been waiting for you.
Ah, autumn. This weekend felt short, yet decidedly fall.
There was a cousin visit, complete with brunch, a stroll through Swan Point and heavy and happy life discussions.
There was teatimesthree and lots more walking, leaf rustling, west side mansion shopping, and poster hunting. There were Bucks & Dunnies, Ducks & Bunnies, pumpkin peeping, late night cookie baking (have you ever made just one chocolate chip cookie?) and more “life discussing”.
In a few hours it’s toes first back into ballet, but for now, I’m savoring the warm fuzzies of this photo diary.
One of first dates was spent behind the handlebars, racing down a bus tunnel with bellies full of froyo. We biked our way through Vernon to Giverny, up to Monet’s gardens and back again. We pedaled along train tracks to a rusty old bridge in East Providence, and crossed a bridge over the Seine to meet a whirring train headed for Paris.
Of course, if we’re not biking, please find us brunching. Oh, pretty please.
Savory crêpes, sweet pancakes, miso fettuccini, we’ve brunched it all. No discrimination. Many a pilgrimmage in Paris led to golden eggs and spicy avocado toast.
So a Monday dedicated to biking from Barrington to Bristol for brunch? Bliss.
So much can happen in the quick quarter of an orbit.
The wily weather tests and the earth changes her ticking dress. New faces become your favorites and different places are dubbed The Best.
An adventurer’s comfort lies in knowing that discovery chases the bend of the wind.
Temporal tides tempt exploration, and seasonal shifts never meet an end.
Does this spot look familiar? Despite the 80-degree week days, so far September’s weekends have welcomed a slight chill to Providence, and it’s got me feeling all kinds of cozy. And cozy feels deserve warm brunch and beanies. M and I decided to celebrate autumn’s arrival by filling our bellies with Salted Slate and visiting a rickety old friend of ours. Man, I love September.