There's a brisk wind this morning. The lawn, trimmed neat and clear under yesterday's sun, is now overrun with an assortment of leaves. It is just one sign among many of the season's change, even here in the South where such transitions are breathtaking. The temperature dips of course, but it isn't only that. The birdsong has grown thin. Deep old-growth forests have lost their lushness of greenery. Orion drifts higher in the night sky than in the summer months, when he can scarcely be found at these latitudes. Even the air feels different on my skin. The scent of the world has changed.