I was folding laundry yesterday and putting things in their places when I got the itch to do a little change-of-season organizing. Yesterday didn't really feel like fall weather-wise, aside from the acorns falling (surprisingly noisily) on the neighbor's roof. But our bodies have clocks and mine has always been especially in tune with seasons, the shifting of tides, the subtle newness that starts gradually and then happens all at once in a rush. It's why I feel unsettled living in places that have less than four seasons--my body and mind anticipate and crave these regular, predictable, natural movements and without them I feel a little adrift.
With fall comes my desire to tidy up and reorganize my drawers and hangers and make our home feel simpler and softer. We have only one small closet (which we share) in our bedroom and the rest of our clothes that need to be hung are in a closet in the attic. I was initially bummed we didn't have a larger closet and that our clothes had to be separated but now I'm ok with the setup. It means that I have to regularly rearrange and rotate my wardrobe, edit out the clothes I no longer wear to make room for the ones I do, and be efficient with space. Positive things.
It felt good yesterday to tuck away my sleeveless tops in exchange for wool dresses, to make a pile for the dry-cleaning and a pile to bring to a local consignment shop. I rebelliously kept my long white linen dress out and day-dreamed about pairing it with leather booties and a chunky sweater this fall. I folded and tried things on and reflected on how neutral my wardrobe is (just the way I like it). I made a mental note about two pairs of shoes that need some help from a cobbler. I listened to the acorns falling.
There's something about the quiet pace of an afternoon like this. The sun streaming in the bedroom, small improvements that are just for you, not talking just thinking, doing it all not because you have to but because it's satisfying and makes life just a little tidier. Pure therapy, I tell you.