There comes a moment every December—usually right around the time I can see my breath inside my car—that my inner seasonal compass gently nudges me and says:
“Alright sweetheart… put the pumpkin spice down.”
And I do. Not because pumpkin spice isn’t magical (it is, and I stand by that), but because I’m a cool-weather girl with too many scarves and a beverage calendar that is practically a moral code at this point.
Fall is cinnamon, orange leaves, and optimism. Winter is chocolate, mint, and the hush of cold air that smells a little like possibility. They’re completely different emotional ecosystems. You can’t sip autumn through December. It confuses the universe.
So every year, without fail, I migrate from my beloved pumpkin spice latte to my winter soulmate:
the double mocha with a single, dignified drop of peppermint.
Stirred lightly, like a secret.
Pumpkin Spice: My Autumn Muse
Pumpkin spice isn’t a drink.
It’s a curated experience.
It tastes like:
- thrifted sweaters
- leaves crunching under boots
- the urge to redecorate your entire house
- and the lie we tell ourselves that this is the year we’ll stay organized
(It’s never the year. Pumpkin spice loves our delusion.)
Its warmth is emotional. Its sweetness is forgiving. It feels like hugging a friend who always smells faintly of nutmeg and good advice.
Pumpkin spice is fall’s love letter.
But then… fall ends. The trees get skeletal. My scarves get chunkier. And the morning light turns that specific shade of blue that whispers,
“It’s winter now.”
That’s when I know it’s time.
Winter Mocha: The Cold-Weather Love of My Life
The double mocha with mint is a whole different mood.
Where pumpkin spice is cuddly and enthusiastic, winter mocha is elegant. A little mysterious. A little dramatic, like it has a complicated backstory and a favorite jazz record.
Chocolate grounds me. Mint revives me.
Together they taste like:
- early sunsets
- frosted windows
- quiet nights
- boots crunching on fresh snow
- and the hush right before a storm
A winter mocha is not a drink—it is a seasonal identity.
And Then Comes Spring… When I Turn Into a Victorian Garden Lady
Nobody warned me that adulthood comes with seasonal beverage personalities, but here we are.
When the first warm rain falls and the world smells like wet soil and hope, something in me shifts.
Almost overnight I abandon the wintry richness and switch to:
Black teas.
Strong ones.
With a splash of milk and a tiny biscuit if I’m feeling theatrical.
Spring is when I drink tea like I’m in a rainy English garden wearing a linen dress and pretending I’m waiting for news from the London post. I don’t know why. It just happens.
Black tea in spring feels:
- crisp
- floral-adjacent
- refined
- a little romantic
- and extremely “proper lady who writes letters by hand”
If winter mocha is my deep, hibernating self, then spring black tea is my awakening self—hopeful, calm, maybe even slightly delusional about how much gardening I can actually handle.
Seasonal Coffee (and Tea) Is Basically My Personality at This Point
People tease me about my “beverage rotation,” but honestly?
It makes sense.
- Fall is pumpkin spice.
- Winter is mint mocha.
- Spring is black tea in a rainy garden.
- Summer is iced-everything with no rules and no regrets.
My scarves and my drinks change together. My moods follow. It’s all a perfectly orchestrated seasonal symphony.
So yes—today I made the switch. Goodbye autumn coziness. Hello winter richness.
And as I sipped that perfect peppermint chocolate with my scarf wrapped twice around my neck, I thought:
“This is who I am. A cool-weather girl with a seasonal beverage schedule.”
And honestly? I’m delighted with myself.
-Miss Ordinary
