The edges of the season.

I'd know it. Even if the windows weren't open. Even if we hadn't just eaten on the deck. Even if it weren't going into the 3rd week in school. The coming of fall to me is in all those things but also something more. It comes with the mist that hangs on the ground in the meadow each morning. A sign that the air and the earth are dancing around their differing temperatures.

It's gone with the sun. In the sun summer still holds sway. But at the edges of the day in the meadow on the hill, you can see the edges of the seasons.