Biking to work one day last week, my eyes watered from the cool morning air. The temperature felt like October, and my tearing eyes were a harbinger of fall. 

It’s only a matter of weeks until my mitten-protected fingers will be numb from grasping the handle bars.  

Climbing into bed that night, I appreciated the warm sheets, knowing that before long, they will feel like ice until our bodies warm them.

My summer whites are piling up on the guest bed waiting for their once-a-season bleaching before they are relegated to the guest-room closet to wait for next spring.

I see tinges of orange in the maple tree leaves outside my office.

Our book club, cancelled during the summer, convenes next week.

Worst of all for me, the days are quickly growing shorter.

I remind myself that fall is beautiful.  That winter is tolerable.  And, if my luck holds, I have more springs and summers in my future.