a prelude for september

A long, hot August has given way, reluctantly, to September. The endless sunlight is rapidly dwindling and even the warm days left lack the strength of high summer; there is no avoiding the twinfold threat and promise of Autumn. Oh, it's still warm, and people still dress for the summer, but now people consider bringing a jacket or an umbrella if they'll be out for a while. Now the rain won't feel unexpected when it comes.

I've been noticing more spiders out in the trees on my walk to work--there's something magical about seeing the same spiders building their webs in the same spots day after day, week after week. Fall is spider season, and it always makes me a little sad that so many people are afraid of them. They're such lovely, fascinating creatures.

I've also been imagining lately what the trees that line my street will look like when the colors change. There are so many of them, old, massive trees, making the street feel more like a park than a thoroughfare at times--and I say that as someone who lives in a city with trees everywhere. The promise of an avenue so thoroughly lined with brilliant leaves is a powerful one.