Melissa Stagnaro

I love the fall. The new found crispness in the air, the first few brightly colored leaves peeking out behind their green neighbors, flocks of honking geese flying overhead…What’s not to love? Especially if the sky is that clear robins-egg blue. It makes me want to pull out the turtlenecks and long pants I tucked away last spring and go for a long walk, after which I’ll curl up in front of a fire with a hot cup of mulled cider.

I relish the fall, with all of the memories I have of cutting wood with my father and baking apple pies with my mother. I’ll be doing both this weekend and I’ll enjoy it more than I ever did when I was young.

Oh, I’ll miss summer when it’s gone. But there is something about this time of year that just IS upstate New York. Autumn in these rolling hills is one of the things I missed most during my years away.

No matter where I was or what I was doing, there was always a part of me that felt something was missing. It took me a long time to figure it out, but I came to the realization that what I was missing was “home.”

After far, far too long I have finally found my way back to this place where I will always belong.