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An Open Letter to My Autumn-Obsessed Friends
Dear Friends in the North,
You know who you are. You woke up today with that unmistakable excitement bubbling inside you. You felt the first hint of a chill in the air (even if it was just your imagination).
Change is in the atmosphere, you thought, and you immediately shared that sentiment with the entire Internet, just in case anyone else missed the arrival of fall.
I love autumn, you mused, as you dug out a box of sweaters from the top of your closet. Sweaters, football games, vibrant leaves, and the thrill of a new school year—all of it filled you with joy. And of course, pumpkin spice lattes! You didn’t hold back from sharing your enthusiasm with the world, tagging it all with #PSL.
But here’s the thing, my friends. I need to be honest with you.
I’m feeling a bit of resentment.
Don’t worry; it’s only temporary. By mid-November, we can be friends again. Once your colorful leaves have turned into mushy debris clogging the gutters and your cozy sweaters have seen better days, I’ll be ready to reconnect.
For the next couple of months, though, I can’t help but feel a bit of jealousy towards you and your fall-loving crew. And I think I speak for all of us who bask in warmer climates when I say this:
When you pin pictures of stylish boots and scarves on a Pinterest board titled “I Love Fall!”, it stings a little. We might re-pin those images, but we know that our boots won’t see the light of day until late October, and even then, we’ll be sweating our socks off.
When you share endless pumpkin recipes, from pancakes to martinis (seriously, enough with the pumpkin already!), it’s a mix of anger and envy wrapped in a pumpkin-apple-cinnamon roll.
When your Instagram feeds overflow with #nofilter shots of brilliant maple trees, we want to bang our heads against the steering wheel and cry. But let’s face it, the steering wheel is way too hot to touch.
When you post about the heavenly smell of homemade applesauce wafting from your Crock-Pot after a fabulous day of apple-picking, we’re stuck cranking the A/C while the news reports yet another week of sweltering heat.
And when you take your kids to the pumpkin patch in their adorable matching outfits, we’re slathering sunscreen on ours and racing to the patch at dawn just to escape the heat. Sure, we join in on the fun, but only because we’ve reached a point where we can no longer reason with our kids who’ve been cooped up for too long.
When you cheer for your favorite team in cozy knit caps and puffy vests while sipping spiked cider, we’re inside, wishing we could just disappear.
And when you post that first pumpkin spice latte of the season, it fills us with a mix of disdain and envy for everything fall represents: the crunching leaves, the delightful aromas of cinnamon and nutmeg, the cozy chili nights, and those crisp mornings. Sure, we might order our own #PSL and share the proof, but we do it with a heavy heart.
It’s not really your fault. I know that, and I also understand that come March, you’ll feel similar frustration when I share sunny pictures of the kids splashing through sprinklers or tweet about my sunburn from a day in the park. But nothing changes—I still harbor this feeling of dislike.
There’s a reason Starbucks doesn’t offer an iced pumpkin spice latte: it would probably taste like bitterness.
So, until November, my friends,
Your pal in Arizona
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Summary: The author expresses their playful frustration with friends who embrace the joys of autumn while living in a warmer climate, highlighting the humorous contrasts in seasonal experiences.