The autumn equinox turned the skies nearly a month ago now. Even then, the dry, yellowed grasses waved impassively in the still, warm air. The leaves, while glowing here and there with color, tended to crackle and fall from branches before lighting up the woods. The parched earth gave no indication that the summer had ended. Even the hazy yellow light hung in the air, rather than the crisp, golden light of fall. And we waited, and the world lazily waited. But now, it's autumn.
The first rains came trickling down some days back, and the slugs awakened. The first few wooly bears grubbed across the sun-warmed roadways shortly after. The crickets began chirping in the meadows, and the buzzing, droning, flying things of summer began seeking shelter. Ladybugs and boxelders began appearing on my windows yesterday, searching for the ways inside that all these old houses graciously provide for them. They will climb inside and gather together in great knots, somewhere out of sight, until the spring comes around again. And for now, they will sleep awhile.