No, not that change. And I'm not talking politics, either.
All of a sudden it's darker when I get up in the morning, when I get home in the evenings. And there's that smell in the air. You know the one. That dry, leafy smell. Even when there are no leaves on the ground, the ones still on the trees rustle, "Stay tuned - I've got one last great show in me. The best is yet to come!" Their very tips are fading from green to pale yellow and faint orange. Another few weeks, and the color riot will be in full swing.
And even on warm days, there's a hint of a different kind of breeze. It feels . . . fall-y. Slowly, slowly, the thermometer settles itself south of 80 . . . 70 . . . 60.
Halloween fol-de-rol is already on store shelves. The dry cleaners are licking their chops at all that wonderful wool coming through the doors. Schedules become jam-packed as everyone settles back into routine.
Autumn - my favorite kind of change.