Growing up on the East Coast in the state of New Jersey, seasons were just a thing that happened naturally. Winter, fall, summer, spring; we had them all.

Coming to California for college, one of the biggest culture shocks was the lack of seasons. As someone who enjoys the outdoors, I live and breathe for nature and its changing personalities. Right now, I can’t help but think about fall in California vs. fall on the East Coast and how much one season can differ from coast to coast. Because it’s not just about the changing of the weather; it’s so much more. This poem is for all the people who are in love with fall. I hope it does our favorite season justice.

Fall is leaves all around you — Rose golds, crimson reds, canary yellows, rusty oranges — decorating the trees, walkways, and driveways. Every step you take, the sound of leaves crunching under your feet. Or, falling delicately into the layers of your tangled up hair

Fall is being 5 years old and jumping into piles and piles of leaves in the backyard, all weekend long, while Daddy rakes up the piles you told him were good to go. Throwing the leaves up in the air like fairy dust and watching them drift to the ground like snowflakes.

Fall is going to the pumpkin patch and spending half an hour finding the perfect pumpkin. Driving home, the pumpkin in your lap, because you just couldn’t bear the thought of it sitting alone in the trunk. Fall is running up the porch steps into the house, getting out your art kit, splashing colors, and painting faces. Carving magic, transforming a bright orange synonymous pumpkin into your very own.

Fall is leaving your pumpkin masterpiece on the front step — next to Mr. Scarecrow — so you can show it off to the rest of the neighborhood. Crying when you wake up a few mornings later, devastated to discover that a squirrel got hungry and took a few bites (your mother did warn you).

Fall is adventures to apple orchards (even though apples are your least favorite fruit; you just love the experience of picking fruit, having photo shoots, and hanging out with your favorite humans). Picking so many apples that you know you’ll get sick of them in less than a week, but who cares, you got excited in the moment. Fall is the car ride home, talking about all the apple dishes you’re going to make, and sitting on the couch with a slice of apple pie and too much whipped cream 6 hours later.

Fall is that crisp air that calls for pulling out your favorite wool sweater and fuzzy socks. It’s dressing up in oversized checkered flannels and Bean Boots (the season when comfort and style can actually co-exist).

Fall is hayrides and haunted houses. Screaming at something that isn’t even there and clinging to your friend’s arm at every corner. Fall is that breath of relief you take after finishing the haunted house, the adrenaline coursing through your body, you ready to do it again.

Fall is the early morning mist that covers just that one field — like a spell — on your drive to school. With temperatures cool enough to breathe on car windows and make temporary chalkboards, you use your finger to write your initials along with those of the boy you like.

Fall is dark nights coming earlier and earlier. Getting out of play practice at 6 pm and taking the late bus home at 16 years old (because you live in New Jersey and you still aren't old enough to drive), watching the downtown lights flicker by like fireflies.

Fall is warm hands wrapped around mugs of hot apple cider and Starbucks pumpkin spice lattes (the one time of year you accept that you’re basic). The burnt taste on your tongue from taking a sip too soon.

Fall is Thanksgiving at your aunt and uncle’s house, everyone pressing the pause button on life to see one another, and eating catering from their country club because no one wanted to cook for 40+ people (thankfully, your sister and you insisted on making homemade desserts).

Fall is watching your cat stare out the window, trying to catch all the leaves that land on the window sill.

Fall is the smell of pumpkin pie, cinnamon apple spice, and vanilla scented candles. Lighting them not because they make the room warmer, but because it’s simply the season for them.

Fall is the coming of Christmas and putting up the tree the day after Thanksgiving. Playing Michael Bublé’s holiday album on repeat, because it’s finally acceptable in your house.

Fall is not just a season but a feeling of warmth and wonder. It’s the beauty that can blossom from saying goodbye, and the knowledge that you’ll meet again.

Fall is that feeling of playfulness you get from dancing with the leaves; the soft threads of your favorite army green scarf; the sweet, chewy taste of molasses cookies in your mouth; you sitting on the hardwood floor counting how many Twix bars you collected from trick-or-treating; your grandma smiling because all of her kids and grandkids are together in one home.

Fall is being a child again, eyes open, hopeful and in love with the world. Ready, set, don’t blink.