And then all of a sudden it was cold and drizzling and I was underdressed on my bike, remembering that I need a hat, gloves and my eyes are going to water. I did a spin at the gym where I was too hot, stopped for coffee and an egg sandwich, and then to the grocery. The place smelled frankly too much like cinnamon, like the place was trying to beat me over the head with “fall.” I got my six items, checked out and loaded them into my pannier, and headed out. Ah, the culprits: bag after bag after bag of cinnamon pine cones with a small pile of cinnamon brooms (yes, I guess that’s a thing) bringing season’s greetings. Welcome, fall! And thanks for reminding me again that I might be cold heading down the hill, but I’ll be nice and toasty on the way back.