Blame it on Colorado

I've got a problem.

I've come down with a major case of Autumn Fever. Not Spring Fever (from which I rarely suffer), but Autumn Fever. You may be familiar with some of the symptoms: a) a longing for the leaves to turn colors sooner rather than later; b)an almost-overwhelming urge to yank up my still-vibrant impatiens and replace them with orange and brick red mums; and c) a hankering to bake a pumpin pie and burn pumpkin-scented candles.

Right now I'm drinking a Harvest Moon Pumpkin Ale, but it isn't scratching my itch. In fact, it doesn't taste remotely like pumpkins or even pumpkin spice. I think I'll write a strongly worded letter to Blue Moon Brewing Company stating as much. To all of you who are tempted to buy this brew because of its attractive packaging, I predict you'll be as disappointed as I am. But I digress...

I know I'd be fine with the Midwest summer we're still in the throes of if I hadn't just returned from spending a week in the Colorado Rockies. The mornings in the mountains were cool and crisp, and here and there groves of quaking aspen were just beginning to turn golden. On Monday morning we awoke to a thin layer of white stuff covering majestic Long's Peak and its neighbors, which according to the Rocky Mountain News was the first measurable snowfall of the season. There was enough snow in the morning to warrant the closing of Trail Ridge Road (located above the treeline) in Rocky Mountain National Park, though it was open again to traffic by 1PM.

36 hours later I was back home. From sweatshirts and jeans to t-shirts and shorts. Ugh.

If we're lucky, it'll only be another month or so before it is sweater weather again. I, for one, can't wait. Maybe tonight I'll turn the a/c down to 65, eat a pumpkin muffin or two, and pretend I'm back in the Rockies. But this time with my dog.