Groovy

This really is a great time of year. The air is all crisp and lovely, the evening comes sooner and all the leaves are lovely and colourful. It's so groovy. I think it's pretty bizarre that no matter where you go (okay, my scope may be a little limited here), the air always smells the same in the fall. I didn't give it much thought before I came here because really, who does give alot of thought to how the air will smell when the seasons change when they're moving to another country? Not me. But since I'm here and I've got a lot of free time going on, why not? Tonight is actually the first time this fall that I've been hit with a wave of nostalgia due to the smell of the air. It's got that crispness I love so much (not cold really but somehow fresher feeling than usual...because sometimes you just don't feel fresh...sorry) and the smell of leaves burning that always reminds me of halloween and being out after dark running around in some crazy costume with your friends, eating copious amounts of candy. Jumping in piles of crunchy leaves, and yes, a little of the smoking pot in a field out behind the high school. But that came much later than the rest!

Whenever I smell that particular fall smell in the air I always think of a specific halloween. I was in grade 7 which would make me a sassy 12 year old, and we had just moved to Lantzville from Prince Rupert. I don't know why it stands out particularly. I guess I must have been really happy. I had my first boyfriend who was very handsome and very popular (probably a shoe salesman or something now - in retrospect he seems like a used car salesman type but at the time he was the shit), I had cute outfits and cool hair (again with the first time thing - I was always at the bottom of the cool food chain in elementary school), and I had friends (not so plentiful prior to this occasion either). The night was crisp (as I like it!) and there was a big neighbourhood bonfire that all the families went to and I don't really remember anything else. Except that it was exciting and fantastic. We were allowed to be there and it was perfectly safe and my parents must have been there somewhere but somehow it felt a little bit dangerous anyway. A little bit risky. In a PG kind of way of course. The only tangible picture I have in my head of that night is of a path beside the school field with lots of feet passing by and drops of dew all over the grass and the weeds and the shoes. It was a fantastic night that stands alone. It's not great because it was connected to someone I love or loved, or because anything extraordinary happened. It's great just because it is. And even now that I'm 30 and 18 years have passed since then, I still see those feet filing down that path everytime I smell burning leaves on crisp autumn air.