It's easy to tell that Fall is barely a month away. The nights have been growing cooler, little by little, and I have to wear a sweater or shawl now if I sit on the verandah after dark. The crickets still sing, in fact I think they're louder than ever, but there's a feeling in the air, an expectancy of something drawing to a close. But I can't bring myself to shut the windows yet. I love to feel chilly that way in the evening. Even if it means grabbing another shawl or running upstairs for a pair of socks. It's such a blessed relief from those few nights (and there were only a few, thank goodness) where I could barely lift my hand without feeling as if I was swimming in a humid pool of damp air. But this is wonderful, and I'll keep the house open this way for as long as possible. The time to be holed up inside, barricaded behind shutters by the fire against winter's cold, will come soon enough. Best to enjoy this freshness in the house now while I can.
Soon the garden will turn that beautiful russet color, and all the leaves will lie along the ground, their jewel tones like a Persian carpet at my feet. The rose bushes are already laden with enormous pips and the Bittersweet is pushing its tendrils through every nook and cranny it can find, weighing the trellises down with berries that will peel back their yellow hulls and explode into bursts of orange. The black "dolls eyes" berries on the Pokeberry are hanging full from every stalk while the Mountain Ash branches swing heavily with bunches of bright berries. All of these will be left for the birds to eat throughout the winter.
There's really no season that I don't enjoy. But these "endings" in Fall are my favorite, I think... watching as things "go by" (as my grandmother would say) and then waiting throughout the winter for them to begin again.