If it were up to me, summer would run from Memorial Day to Labor Day with no extensions, never breach 82 degrees, and maintain as close to 0% humidity as possible, and then we’d roll right into September sweater weather. A few weeks ago, I shared how August and Everything After is not only the name of an album I still hold near and dear, but also an expression I’ve adopted for that last full swing of summer before everything tips toward fall, my favorite season. But my urge to fast forward to said season really starts in mid-July and picks up a fever pitch by the time I hit my July 29 birthday, and apparently I’m not the only one getting antsy for autumn.
HomeGoods went full fall monty by August 1 with an eruption of skeletons wearing overalls, pumpkin-shaped welcome mats stacked twenty deep, cauldron candy dishes and maple leaf photo frames. Spirit Halloween pop-ups came right on their heels, rising from the dead in the graves of Toys “R” Us and Party City and Bed Bath & Beyond. Starbucks’ iconic (and polarizing) Pumpkin Spice Latte (aka PSL) was first test-marketed on October 10, 2003, but since 2018, that release date has lived in August, and moved forward earlier and earlier in said month. This year, PSL fans can get their fix as of next Tuesday, August 25, but that’s going to be a hard pass for me — I still have PTSD from working on that account during my modern day Mad Men agency days. And to be honest, I think that latte tastes like:
It also wasn’t terribly unusual to experience brisk temperature blips as early as August during my formative years in Michigan and my two tenures in Oregon. Hell, I even got the occasional early teases of sweater weather to come during my residencies in the DC and New York areas. But since moving to Sin City in March 2025, my seasonal score card has been completely revamped. A “fall” sneak peek in August is now more like, “Wow, it’s only 97!” (For the record, we’re headed for 110 degrees today, which is business as usual).
I’m not complaining – I am, against all odds, more of a desert girl than I would have ever bet on (all Vegas puns intended). Yes, we have a good two, maybe three months where stepping foot outside feels like opening an oven door to check on dinner. But for the other nine to ten months, it’s pretty glorious to hardly ever think about umbrellas or water damage to the killer pair of Corral cowboy boots I just thrift-scored. And when an overcast or rainy day does come, it’s like having VIP tickets to a special limited-time residency.
The thermometer here also doesn’t have any weight on any of those retail industry markers. I am inundated with all things harvest and Halloween, just like I would have been in Portland or North Bergen or Falls Church or Grosse Pointe. And I’ve already started this year’s stockpile: witch silhouette mugs and skull dishtowels. I even bought my first bag of candy corn today. And I’ve already worn my new favorite fall sweater, an oversized tiger-adorned Pilcro cardigan I recently picked up on Poshmark (though of course this while I was standing inside the safety of my 68-73 degree Nest regulated home).
And perhaps now that I live in a place where the temps aren’t going to match my falls of yesteryears for quite some time is also a good reminder. It’s perfectly wonderful to anticipate. And it’s also quite lovely to remain in the present. I can easily occupy the majority of my brain space thinking about what just happened and what’s to come, and often lose sight of the gift of just being right here, right now.
Something to meditate on over my nine dollar Windswept Leaves and fourteen dollar Thunder Storm candles. I’d send you one, but it would melt before the package even got scanned in at my post office.
XO,
SG
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