There’s a simple equation I live by:
Autumn = roadtrips.
In fact, I’m not even sure that’s a proper equation. Shouldn’t it have more than just an equals sign? And doesn’t it require a couple of numbers at least?
So it might not be a proper equation, but it’s my equation.
When it’s Autumn, any trip you take can be a roadtrip. I almost forgot I was going to work the other morning because it felt like I had loaded up the car for a dreamy trip through the misty countryside. There was a chilly bite to the air as I loaded the car and it was easy to pretend I was packing a small picnic instead of my work lunch. I drove past trees beginning to turn for Autumn and through patches of mist and fog.
And I tried really hard to remember I was driving to work and not to some scenic location for a lovely day of exploring and photographing all of the things.
If I can make a roadtrip out of my regular commute to work, then I can certainly do the same for an actual longer trip to something that’s actually fun.
Such as a long weekend visit to my parents’ place in Violet Town.