From here

Today there is a fluffy, gray, completely socked-in cloud cover in my part of the world. The air is freshened and the world looks like the latter half of summer. Yesterday afternoon I felt it. Fall is nearly here.

I want to go buy pencils and pens (but I already have some), and paper (yeesh! the paper I've got stashed away in drawers around here!), and I want to make charts for the kids. Only ... they aren't kids, and they have their own schedules to arrange, and the only schedule I need to see to is my own. Something stirs inside of me whenever the autumn gets near. Looks like the house will have to endure my onslaughts since there are no kids to be homeschooled. (Heaven knows the house can stand the full force of my ideas, intentions, and effort. It won't even give me that exasperated look - no matter what I do to it! I hadn't thought about that advantage until just now.)

From here, I can see the approaching school year. For the second time, that bearded young giant will leave for school. This time he'll probably take his car. In fact, this time, he'll probably drive away alone because he's all grown up. He knows his room mates, and he knows where he'll live, and he knows how and where to stand to get all his finances and classes and meals and whatever else he needs. Beer, for one thing. (Oh, shoot. I'm crying again. Danged raw midlife emotional state. I've been doing that lately - every time I think about how eagerly the "kids" are taking up their own lives and how hard they're working at it. It makes me very happy.)

From here, I can see the lovely, long, darkening evenings, waiting for The Great Husband to come home from work. After Michaelmas (at the end of September), I light candles when he's on his way. Or, on the days when I'm at work too, I leave the crock pot full of whatever it's full of, and the dinner scents the house. I might be at school sometimes this fall. I might go in for a weekly course this quarter. I can see it from here.

Fall has always been like that for me. Outdoors, someone has left the oven door open, but the heat has been turned off. Things gradually cool down. The whole earth smells rich and ready to be enjoyed. All the activity and energy and heat of summertime has passed. In the fall, the table is set, and we all sit down to enjoy it. I can see it from here.