I love spring. I love summer. I even love a few things about winter. But autumn, oh autumn is best of all. Cool nights suited to baking. Putting on that cardigan you’ve missed like an old friend who went away for the summer. Leaves to walk upon and rake up in tempting piles. Apple picking. Simmering cider in the slow cooker. Warming each other’s hands. Sharing blankets during coppery sunsets. Autumn seems to be best suited for old hymns, British miniseries, and books waiting patiently for reading. It invites you to snatch up sunshine and comfortable evenings, whispering in your ear of its own fleeting habits. It dares you to be happy in your home, content and peaceable for a while. I can’t help but trust this season.