When we left three weeks ago, it was still summer. But now that we’re back, it is suddenly my favorite season of all – Fall, or if you’re a Brit, Autumn.

I just woke up (after the longest night’s sleep I’ve had since getting back, whoopee!) and reveled in the cool, crisp air in our house, the kind you only get on a fall morning when it’s probably going to be warm later in the day but hasn’t really made its mind up yet. Looking out into the tangle of our backyard, it’s all yellow… or that could be the weedkiller we sprayed on the brambles before we left. Hmm.

The air and the light this morning make me think of the holidays, of family and eating and unfortunately my grandmother. This will be our first holiday season without her pumpkin pies, without the most current generation of kids running back and forth to her house and helping her make cookies, without her to exclaim over the Christmas tree (which has looked more or less the same for my entire life) and buy cheesy, easy presents for.

That’ll be a tough one, but it’s alleviated by the fact that it’ll also be our first fall as a married couple. In the way life seems to work, I have traded one tradition for another, making a whole new set of memories while still keeping close the old.

I rather doubt my new husband will be able to make pumpkin pies as well as Baba did though. Alas.