Search Google for the word, September, and countless links that include “melancholy” immediately pop up.

Why this sadness?

Is it the end of summer? The changing light? The fact that for years, Starbucks’ pumpkin latte never contained any actual pumpkin?

It’s always this way for me. While I’m delighted to see the eventual exit of summer’s heat and embrace the brilliant hues of autumnal foliage, there is always this wave of nostalgia, tinged with melancholy, that curls around my brain like the mists over the fields. (Yes, I thought that was rather well written, too).

But then, baby, October kicks in and we’re in a whole new game!

October, which is a clunky name full of consonants that no one has even attempted to romanticize with cloying lyrics (“Try to remember the kind of September…”), kicks it’s whining little sister to the curb and stands, hands on hips, surveying its domain: Football! A German beer-fueled fest for no particular reason! Halloween! Chunky sweaters and hip boots!

Yes, Rocktober rules!

And just like that, my melancholy dissipates and I am immediately filled with acute restlessness. I want to be out and about all the time! Perhaps it’s the energy of crisp days and chilly nights. Or the busy-ness of shorter days to get everything done.

Oh, alright, it’s because after three months of drenching humidity, my hair finally looks too good to stay home. But when I say this restlessness makes me want to go out, I’m talking about an eight-hour flight.

Because it’s exclusively in October that I miss visiting the woolen shops in Cornwall and seeking a seat by the fire in a 300-year-old pub with a snoring Labrador under the battle-scarred table.

Wearing wellies in a country that means it…or rejoicing in a Tuscan rainfall after a typical blazing summer.

Watching tawny, autumn light begin to drape over olive groves.

Perhaps this will be the year to linger through the cobbled streets of the enchanted Dordogne region in France?

Then, reality kicks in, along with the first night of temperatures dipping into the 30s. Water pipes in the barn need to be wrapped and the winter’s hay order made.

October’s not fooling around, and I have too much on my plate for such a mad reverie: horses to feed, speaking engagements booked, fences to repair…but it doesn’t mean I can’t get out and about.

Maybe even this morning!

Mostly because I’m out of paper towels and the dogs have just peed by the front door.