When I was much younger, I thought I liked autumn because it meant the start of school.  The end of summer boredom.   I never was one to dawdle and frolic in the warm sun and long days.  I inevitably got bored, when I was too young to take books from the adult section of our meagre public library, and old enough that I'd already completed the kids' section.   Besides, my mother used to say, you should be out enjoying the summer!  But I never did, really.

When I started university, also when I was much younger, I thought I liked the autumn because it meant I'd get an intellectual jumpstart again. I'd be among those people who didn't think I was too smart.  In fact, many of them wondered if I was smart enough  -- a welcome change in my life.  Also, by this time, the physical splendor of living in a part of the world where the foliage puts on a display that puts even the loveliest of young co-eds to shame with its beauty was of importance to me.

It was shortly after this -- perhaps in my 20s -- that I realized that I liked autumn because it was the perfect climate for me.  One was never too hot.  On occasion, one even wanted to wear an additional layer, to snuggle into overclothes as a covering against the brisk and cooling wind.  And then there were those leaves to crunch in.  And the often brilliant blue sky.  Or the cool rain, soaking into the earth, filling it with moisture before it froze under the snows of winter, prepping it for the next round of nature's peep show, when spring sprouts flourished.

Finally, after that, I decided it didn't matter why: I love autumn! Period.  I know that others see it as a sad time of year: the precursor to darkness and death of growing things.  I'm not crazy about what comes after autumn (more about that when it happens), but it doesn't spoil the perfection of this season for me.  To me, it's not the pre-death phase; it's the physical evidence of satedness: enough light, enough heat, enough growth: enough.

Almost ten years ago, I had the wonderful opportunity to spend a year in Boston.  Actually, it was in Somerville and Cambridge mostly, with weekly visits to the Common and the other amazing attractions of Boston itself.  But it was a dream come true for me, on many levels, not least of which was an opportunity to enjoy a southern New England autumn.  I swear, the autumn lasted for three months in Boston that year.  The cool temperatures, blue skies, and foliage transformation felt like they would go on forever.  I'd always known I'd like Boston, and being at Harvard. I had no idea of the bliss that could come from such a long autumn.  I found that I didn't mind the days getting shorter when they were still so spectacularly wonderful.   I didn't mind the crisper night-time temperatures when crossing Harvard Yard every day included the wonderful crunch of continually replenished supplies of fallen leaves.   I was in meteorological heaven!

This year, although we continue to vacillate between heatwaves and tropical storms bringing monsoon-like rains, I can feel early signs of autumn.   It's almost cool enough for an additional layer of clothing.  And when I walk the dog, I can hear the occasional crunch of fallen leaves under his little feet, though not yet under mine on sidewalks.  I have dreams of an autumn that lasts longer than our usual splendid three weeks.  And I'm ready!

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