It’s cooler now in the autumn mornings, still dark when I wake up, load the coffee machine and have my first smoke of the day.

We’ve settled into the routine of school, dinner and homework like an old, comfortable sweatshirt. The net productivity of the household has increased dramatically as a result of all this regularity.

The weekends are better now, too: Football season has commenced; the lawn has tapered off; and soup season is just about upon us. Soon there will be woodsmoke in the air, and the noble rot of the summer’s greenery as it surrenders to the inevitable.

Now, I’m not one of those pumpkin-spice freaks who’s been planning his Halloween costume since January, but I do love the fall. I don’t mind the heat of summer, though I detest cold winters. And the break of spring cheers me up some.

We’ve settled into the routine of school, dinner and homework like an old, comfortable sweatshirt.

But in the fall, it seems, I come alive. It’s like somewhere inside I know winter is coming, and it’s time to get down to it.

In the fall I’ve got a full appointment book and packed social calendar. There’s always an election on the horizon — this year’s is sort of a big deal, if you haven’t noticed — and the newsgathering public, similarly tapped into the current, responds with a surge in readership.

The coffee tastes better; the stars seem brighter; the air feels fresher. And fall is the context for pretty much my entire wardrobe.

We’ll celebrate its peak in a couple weeks with a hike up a mountain, a look at the autumn tapestry laid out before us, and take a sip of that cool, clean air. I suggest you do the same.

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