Each September feels like the completion of a revolution for me. It’s familiar and comforting to see the signs of autumn gradually making their appearance toward the end of August. It’s sort of like having a dream about someone you used to know and waking up to the resurgence of old memories.
There’s an awakening that comes with reflecting on how things used to be long ago and how much they’ve changed since – how much you’ve changed. Realization of this change is tinged with sadness at times gone by, never to be revived. It’s a poignant moment to stop and think, and to marvel at the distance traveled. There is also the amazement that life still continues, that September has come yet again to grace us with its faded beauty. Leaves are coming down, one by one at first and then faster and faster as they pile up on decks and roadsides. There’s the haze of late-season pollen and insects clouding the air over the fields and the pungent waft of fermenting apples on the ground.
The transition into autumn is subtle, at first. The deep, vibrant greens of July mark the high point of summer, then August starts to fatigue those greens a little at a time with relentless heat and absence of rain. As nights cool down in September, the fields are often swathed in fog in the mornings until the noon sun burns it off and plunges you back into summer’s heat by the afternoon. The mixture of heat, humidity and yellowing foliage is what gives early autumn its wonderful, hazy aurora when one looks out across the fields and hills.