A swiftly tilting planet

Just about a week ago the weather started to shift. The air became heavy and the nights became sweater-cool. Morning hiking now requires boots (to protect one's feet from the thick carpet of dew and mud), shorts (pants get too wet around the cuffs) and a sweater. Evening hiking requires sneakers, long pants (to keep out bugs) and a t-shirt or breathable thermal.

Coffee tastes good again. And a coffee and cigarette with plain toast before the morning bowel movement is divine. Most parts of the day hot dog breath is viewable as is poop steam.

Fall sports are in full swing, sprint, interception, goal.

A few leaves have dropped from the New York tree line taunting the more perceptive locals with expectations of a remarkable fall. Soon the peaks that stalk our small-sky-state lives and dwarf the abandoned buildings and run-down old houses in this crumbling hilltown will explode with gasp and oh. The air will become filled with falling leaf smell. Hours will be spent standing outside and raking grass.

This is good physical preparation for the long months of winter snow-clearing to follow.

The days will grow shorter. Clothes will become more colorful and whimsy will make its come back amongst hats and mittens. Cheeks will turn red and menus will turn warm soup and toasted sandwiches.

I should like to live like this forever. The woods will be busy with animals preparing for winter. The streams will be pregnant with the returning rains. Playing fields will give birth to local heroes. Parents will miss their children who were home all summer. Children will feel older and bolder and ready to conquer this infamous valley of opportunity. The broken down will become rustic. Every stoop will be adorned with pumpkins. Apples everywhere and 'hello' for stranger.

If I could I would spend every October of my life in Upstate New York and every April in Lawrence, Kansas to catch that day when all the songbirds land outside the window of 1011 Pennsylvania and the first flashes of redbud and forsythia peek out of from the brown-paper-bag-packing they budded through campus winter in. That is the way to do it.

At any rate, the fall season is thick in the air and weighing down on us like a cold, wet fog. I am trying not to die of excitement and having no one to share it with.