Denouement

It's funny how nature and time, our mother and father, respectively, ease us into and out of things. Stepping out into the backyard this glorious afternoon, I realized we are at the beginning of a very beautiful gradation.

Not to sound corny or cliched, but the end of August is a crossroads. Maybe that's not the right way to put it. Rather, it's like a switch on a railroad track; a transfer point that takes us from one trajectory onto another. 

The oven of summer has been turned off and we find ourselves in some residual heat that will carry us through to October. 

I looked up to the sky and didn't see the hazy, white sky of July; I saw royal blue, every which way, no clouds smudging the brilliant azure. 

Yellow leaves helicoptered toward the earth from a Tulip tree. The grand master had sprinkles of yellow throughout its verdant canopy, a clear message that Fall is on its way. 

The pinging hum of insects is at its apex, but the crickets of Fall are busting their way into the orchestra. 

The humid odor of wet forest is replaced by a grassy, woody warmth. The air is lighter and not palpable. We are in the midst of change.

Soon the warmth will yield to cooler nights and mornings, then cooler evenings, then cooler days. The smell of grilled meat will be replaced by the smell of leaves and firepits. Football up, baseball down, Halloween, then Thanksgiving. Pools will close and beaches will be less trodded. It happens every year, yet it always catches us off-guard.

Before we know it the long, dark, sleepy days of winter will be enveloping us. As we toil grudgingly to get everybody ready for school and get the winter clothes ordered, it is the sights, smells, and sensations that are in such surplus now that we will be longing for in February.