Today is the first day so far this year where it really felt like fall. It was still dark out when my alarm went off, and it wasn’t until I had polished off my oatmeal that the first rays of sun started to make their way through my windows. It was a balmy 60.6 degrees in my office at the start of my workday. Rather than turning on the heat like a normal person, I instead chose to wrap myself up in a blanket like a Polarfleece burrito.
I love fall. I love sweaters and leaves and pumpkins and the low angle of the sunlight filtering through the trees. What I think I love most about fall, though, is that nesting instinct that seems to creep up out of nowhere. Today, right now, while I am writing this blog post, I’d rather be baking. My beautiful, apple-green KitchenAid stand mixer is calling to me… “Stop lighting Yankee Candles and actually make the kitchen smell good,” it says.
Processing this nagging internal desire to bake, however, is throwing me off-kilter. Being the type to obsessively over-analyze, I am wondering: When did I turn into someone who likes to bake? Was it right around the time that I started lustily eyeing high-efficiency washers and dryers while wandering through Home Depot? Or maybe when I had more “work pants” in my closet than jeans? (Side note: I noticed that somewhere along the line, I started calling them “trousers”. If I ever start calling them “slacks”, please just kill me.)
I never liked to bake (or cook, for that matter) in my teenage years. In fact, I went out of my way in a bizarre teenage quest to exclusively eat things that were a) frozen or b) take-out, all to show my mother that I would not, as she claimed, develop scurvy. I think it was around the time that I started dating my now-husband that I began to really, truly develop an appreciation for baking. His mother, aunts and cousins covered Gram’s dining room table at every holiday with the most incredible sweets I have ever tasted. The Christmas that I was given some of the family’s recipes, I knew I was “in”. Now I’ve even perfected a few recipes of my own, and I love to share my creations with my family and friends (after sampling them, of course, for quality assurance).
So, in the fading light of this fall afternoon, I have decided that my newfound love of baking does not mean I am turning into a slacks-wearing eater of those little hard candies they have at the bank. Rather, I’m growing up. (Doesn’t that sound much better?) So what if my stand mixer is one of my most prized possessions? I think the sheer amount of Star Trek stuff I own proves that I’m not growing up too fast.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some pumpkin spice muffins to make.