I don’t know why, but Minnesota in late October is my favorite time of the year. Can a place be a favorite time? Hmmm.

It’s so perfectly melancholic. I love the way that the wind smells like the snow that will come, and the under notes of smoke from farmers burning their brush piles that has somehow blown its way to wherever I am. The stark naked trees patiently await their snowy adornment. It’s perfect. Miserably, depressingly perfect. Minnesota in late October is my spirit. It’s grouchy and negative and hopeful all wrapped into one. Summer is great. Spring is great. But give me Minnesota in the fall and my soul songs.

That being said, Justin is sure to be sitting at home fretting about the horrible moping I’ll be doing for the next couple of weeks when I return back to Iowa. He always has to hear about my love of St. Paul and how we must move there and buy a little creaky house and shuffle through leaf flooded sidewalks. I’ll get over it. But it’ll take a while.

For the record, Ollie is enjoying himself too.






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