“Be the designer of your world
and not merely the consumer of it.”
~James Clear, Atomic Habits
It's fall, y'all! Where you live, that might mean cooler temps, crisp air, trees ablaze with fiery autumnal glory, and -- my favorite part of the season! -- sweatah weathah.
But not here in Alabama. The temps climb into the 80s most days, the trees still boast their bright green hues, and we might throw on a sweater in the early morning when the temps are a chilly 70° but we're still wearing flip flops and shorts, because... it's the South, y'all.
What do you do when you are desperately ready for the change of seasons but it simply doesn't feel like fall?
Normally, I'd be making my way to Hobby Lobby and Michael's and Target to buy ALL THE THINGS related to fall decor: pumpkins and gourds and cotton boll stems; grapevine wreaths intertwined with fall foliage; mums and corn stalks and hay bales (for the outdoors, of course); and maybe a few gossamer spider webs and black paper bats in a nod to All Hallow's Eve.... because it might not feel much like fall right now in the Yellowhammer State, but I can make my house look like fall, by golly.
Except... not this year. We are in the middle of a never-ending renovation project and simultaneously prepping for a major estate sale, and I could pen an entire novel about the stress of that chaos but frankly, I'm too overwhelmed to even think about it let alone write about it, and all that to say -- I'm not buying any new decor or bringing out any seasonal decorations until this home improvement project is complete.
At the same time, my soul desperately longs for fall. It doesn't feel like fall, and I can't visually create the feeling of fall inside my house, so I'm tapping into the other senses: the sounds, the smells, and the tastes of fall.
Frankly, I've always done this, I just didn't realize I was doing it. We are sensory beings, and we associate sights, sounds, smells, and tastes with different seasons of the year -- and with different seasons of our lives -- and we tend to keep them compartmentalized as such.
- We don't listen to Winter Wonderland in July.
- We don't drink hot apple cider in April.
- We don't fill our homes with the scents of lilacs in December.
- We don't don delicate pastels in October.
We certainly can do those things, but when we do it can feel... jarring. Out of sync. Incongruent. We can't always put our finger on it, we just know deep in our bones that it feels wrong somehow.
Many of these sensory associations are universal. Some are very personal -- a particular scent, sound, taste, or sight may evoke powerful emotions and awaken memories, either good or bad. Most of these sense-season relationships, however, are completely subconscious.
I want to develop positive connections in my life on every level, and so I've decided to be very intentional this fall about using my five senses in a constructive way to create peace and harmony and well-being in my soul. I want my home to reflect that same sense of calm and comfort for others who enter -- even in the midst of construction and chaos.
Over the next few blog posts, I'll be sharing my favorite sounds, smells, and tastes for the fall... but until then, a question for you:
What makes fall feel like fall to you?
