The final days of a summer that was almost non-existent seem to have come and gone. Day after day we waited for the high temperatures and humid air that we usually complain about through most of July and 
August, but they never really came and now we are here, summer waning, fall waxing. I'm hoping for an Indian Summer (though I'm sure that's far from pc), but these wee hours of autumn's dawn are equally as pleasing. It is still warm enough, if we bundle up, to go for evening walks, and because the sun sets earlier every day we see more bats before we have to go in for bed, and we love to look for the bats. Even better, it's cool enough that the throngs of people who usually crowd our tiny village streets on summer nights are 
mostly home, ensconced in the light and warmth of their hearths, when we don sweaters and descend upon the Dairy Queen, then take our cones and, in the dimming light of day, walk along the newly released flow of Mill Creek, investigating the construction that is still underway there. This time of year means it's cool enough to walk into town for story time without arriving at the library drenched in sweat, but warm enough still to walk. On our way Calvin delights in pointing out the changing colors on the trees 
and the squirrels who are foraging for nuts to bury in preparation for the winter. We spent upwards of fifteen minutes one day watching a squirrel do just that, and I'm sure I enjoyed it as much as he did. On days when the sun is out, warming the earth just that little bit more, we are still able to enjoy one of our favorite summer pastimes, packing a picnic lunch and choosing somewhere, anywhere in the village, to sit and enjoy our food while watching the world go on around us.
I think I say every year that fall is my favorite season, but I'll say it again just for good measure. I love the anxiety of the college football season, the colors in the trees, the cold nights and cool days, the warmth of traditional fall meals, the smell of the harvest. It is a sensational time of year.