Despite a few heat spells, around these parts the summer was reasonable.  More rain than lawn care and weeding would prefer, after a somewhat dry June, but really not horrendous.  I had my first snuffs of autumn in the air in late July.  I have a fairly keen sense of smell, and when I’m jogging before the sun is up, sometimes I get a whiff of change.  Of course, we had August yet to go, and temperatures rebounded, as they will in August, but the change had started.  Today we have equal night and day, but from here until the winter solstice, nights will grow longer.  It’s the season of harvest and Halloween, and, increasingly, scary movies.  We’ll need to turn the furnace on for the season before too long.  Energy bills will go up, but October and November tend to be cozy rather than frigid.

My inner pagan appreciates the change in seasons with an enthusiasm that may not often show.  I remember well my first semester at Boston University.  Other students at the School of Theology knew I wasn’t exactly the smiley sort.  One September day the clouds, temperature, and scent in the air were just right.  I couldn’t help beaming.  A woman who knew me from class asked why I was smiling, “That’s not like you,” she said.  It was the coming of autumn.  

I’m not a person who wishes time away.  I like summer.  I like not having to grab a coat before going outside.  I like not having to put on layers indoors to keep warm.  I also like winter.  The bleakness of the season appeals to the joyful melancholy I often feel.  I don’t enjoy being cold all the time, but the feeling of the season buoys me up.  Spring I always greet with relief.  The constant chill begins to loosen its grip and, although I grumble about having to start up yard work again, I love watching the flowers bloom, welcoming back the warmth.  I wish none of this away.  Born in a temperate zone, it all feels so necessary to me.  But autumn is my favorite.  Leaves began changing around here back in July.  The yellows are beginning to grace the walnuts, and sumac is blushing its scarlet.  It will be some weeks before the deep green of later summer disappears, but we are entering the season of melancholy personified.  I think I can understand why the ancients celebrated these changes.  They are the heartbeat of the temperate life.