Last night, I was innocently sitting on my couch watching Real Housewives of New Jersey (don't judge me), when I was struck, out of the blue, with a craving for an apple festival.  It wasn't just a craving for an apple dumpling, or fresh apple cider, or warm chicken soup.  It was for the entire festival.  The smell of fall, fresh apples, corn husks, and cool air.  Sitting in the grass watching kids try to eat candy apples, and browsing the craft stands and going on hay rides, or walking a corn maze. 

I think it's because I am SOOOO ready for fall.  I love fall, for many of the same reasons I love apple festivals.  Cool weather, sweatshirts, hot coffee, changing leaves, football, apple pie.  Ohh, I can't wait for it. 

I'm not sure why apple festivals make me so happy outside all the stuff you can get at them.  Fall, in reality, signifies the coming of cold, death, hibernation, stillness.  It's a warning, for the squirrels to collect nuts, for the bears to build up some blubber, for southerners to stockpile bread and milk (oh, wait, that doesn't happen until the snow is coming...).  But apple festivals make me feel like everything is perfect.  I get all warm and tingly inside just thinking about it. 

And, if on the way home, we happen to stop and get a pumpkin spice latte, someone might have to remind me I'm not in heaven.