My phone is already flooded with screenshots of amber-colored streets and pumpkin-lined porches, and if yours looks the same, girl, I feel you. Every autumn I promise myself I’ll skip the crowded, Instagram-famous leaf-peeping towns and actually go somewhere quieter,…

I’ve said it before to anyone who’ll listen October is the month I plan my whole year around. The summer crowds have gone home, the light turns golden by four in the afternoon, and every place I love somehow becomes…

Some loves sneak up on you slowly, and mine for autumn in the national parks happened all at once, on a golden afternoon in the mountains when the whole world seemed to be blushing. I still remember standing there, sweater…

Sweater weather does something to my soul, and I’m guessing it does the same to yours. The second the air turns crisp, I start daydreaming about winding mountain roads, mugs of cider, and towns that look like they were plucked…

Growing up, I always pictured Christmas as chunky sweaters and frosted windows, but somewhere along the way I fell hopelessly in love with a different kind of holiday magic, the kind that comes with bare shoulders, palm trees strung in…

My favorite part of the holidays isn’t the gifts, it’s the getaway. Every December I start hunting for a place that smells like pine and fireplace smoke, where the snow actually cooperates and the hotel robe is thicker than my…

I grew up thinking I knew the West Coast. Big Sur, the San Juans, Zion (okay, not technically West Coast, but you get the idea) the postcard spots everyone tags on Instagram. Then a friend dragged me down a gravel…