Wonderful Wonderous Fall

Oh, how I love the fall. I love when the mornings are chilly and sharp with the scent of the crush from the winery up the road, and the sweet agrestic smell of wet yellowed straw left on the ground after harvest. I live on the edge of town, near the farms and the foothills, where if the wind is right, a rooster's crow can be heard as the sun begins to peek over the edge of the jagged peaks of the Sierras to the east. The eastern sky becomes pinky-orange and misty, edged in dark blue lace dotted with brilliant white stars. It's magical. Enchanting. And it makes me want to make yummy skin stuff -- pumpkin scrubs and masques, pumpkin and green apple soap (think Roman chamomile as the "apple"), vetyver baths to entice benevolent spirits.

And the very best part? No. More. Blasting. Heat.