Summer Is Dead

Finally, the weather shifts. I love October--only in this month do cold, gray skies and rain seem appropriate. Now I can feel justified driving to Martins and picking up a gallon of cider (Kercher's October Gold is the best). The enormous pumpkins on the front porch have stopped sweating. The trees behind my office are green and gold; not gold trees and green trees but both colors on the same branch, evenly mixed, evoking the clothes of a jester, something carnival anyway.

Rejoice. Autumn has risen. From here on out the days will grow garish and crisp, and then into the leaden dusks we'll slide...