I didn't make it to Yosemite this summer; or any camping trip at all, and I regret it. The stars are so bright when you get deep into the mountains. It's cooler at night, which isn't at fun, but that makes for snuggly warm blankets atop bare granite as you stare up at the night and get vertigo from the dizzying sphere above. 'Course, in Neil's case last year, this also meant a bear hunt, but nevertheless...I sorely miss the Sierra Nevada.
Summer is crisp fruit and vegetable scents, like Grapefruit Jasmine or Green Tea and Cucumber; fall is Cinnamon Pumpkin and Blissful Blackberry. (Can you tell I've been in the stockroom at Bath & Body Works a li'l too much lately?)
Autumn this way comes. The fall is perfect afternoons, great for strolling about in the fading sunlight. It's golden harvest moons, bright and full and terrifying as the rise over the hills, so huge that you count the craters and barely cover it with your fist. It's dusk under a blanket, watching leaves fall on you. I like it enough, but darkest summer just rocks my toes.