The Message

If you're looking out a window, and you're not looking at the sky, it would be easy to assume today is just a late summer's day, springlike, perhaps, like so many other days. The lawns are lush and green and overgrown from constant sun and rain, flowers still bloom in flurries of color and raise buds for tomorrow. Birds are calling from the trees, a constant symphony of innumerable instruments. Step away from the window and walk through the door.

It's all a trick. Autumn is slowly wrapping herself around trees and skimming across the sky, calling the geese to follow her south. Pale leaves are beginning to litter sidewalks and streets, crackling gaily beneath automobile tires and passers-by. Squirrels are in a panic, scurrying to and fro, squabbling over food and storage space for winter, disturbing many with their constant chatter. While still bright, the flowerbeds are thinner. More and more patches of bare Earth can be seen between the brilliant array of petals.

New colors are showing up. The sparkling blues of sky and swimming pool, the reds of strawberries and tomatoes, the astonishing hues leaping from flower petals, all are giving way to a more brilliant display. Oranges and yellows of pumpkin and squash are unveiling themselves. Russet apples burst from orchard branches. The trees are beginning to store away for the winter, causing their leaves to flame in all shades of colors- red, yellow, deep purple, orange, and many colors in between. Eventually they drop and shrivel, and are pushed around by playing winds, or shattered with crunching defeat.

Today is one of those remarkable, unexplainable, wonderful days outside. The sky is overcast, threatening rain, perhaps a weak attempt at snow, neither of which will occur. A matte grey blanket of clouds. "The Grey Dome," a Professor of mine called it once. It's not cold outside; the neighbor's thermometer is checking in near 65°F. The breeze, however, is one of those sudden bursts of air that comes without warning, whipping your hair every which way and whistling in your ears. The breeze, my friends, is cold. The winds coming through the windows are cause for putting another blanket on the bed, and talk of drawing the window closed for the night and turning on the heat. The combination of warm air and cool breeze combined with the sky above is just enough to make somebody push his shorts aside and start thinking about bringing sweaters and jackets from their hibernation in boxes.

Some say this weather is depressing. That it's "gloomy." I could agree, if this weather had been constant and unrelenting. But, fortunately, today is the beginning. After weeks of sun and sweat, of burnt shoulders and cursing forgotten sunglasses, today is welcome. The air feels crisp and smells sweet. The leaves bumpily blowing across the pavement sound a skritchy Morse Code. The message: Autumn is coming.