Late Summer in the northeast ushers in musky hints of Autumn long before she arrives. Sometimes brown crunchy leaves that fall due to high heat and no rain stir the urge for pumpkin-spice everything even while we’re still sweating in our shorts and sandals.

She comes quietly in September, slipping into that brief moment between the last trip to the shore and holiday planning. The trees are suddenly ablaze and the farms lie barren after yielding their annual harvest gifts to the local farmers. Nature switches out the color scheme for golden wheat and ethereal shades of red, orange and yellow as the low-hanging sun lights up the world for such a brief second, you’ll miss it if you blink.

Branches release their artwork one leaf at a time, creating a rustling carpet, much to the delight of children and pets alike. Hayrides, apple pie, and fall festivals… Pumpkins appear on porches; spooky ghosts and goblins haunt the neighborhood for a few short hours to gather their candy stash, and then…

Blink.

“It’s t-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ime.” Screeching strains of Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas” drown social media. Soda-drinking polar bears appear on TV commercials. Jingle bells jingle furiously while the jack-o-lantern rots and the turkey is served.

On today’s dog walk, I took my phone and tried to capture a few frames of this fleeting season before the pines and holly berries erase all memory of it. By now, the squirrels have hoarded away the best of the acorns, and the colors are beginning to fade into the dullness of dreary Winter, impatiently pushing Autumn out of the way.

And so, the season of lights will come shortly and remind us of days gone by, of what we have and what we have lost. We’ll hunker down into our warm dens to ride out the cold and the dark, creating our own merriment and comfort, reflecting on the past year and anticipating the next with hope, because we know that Spring is next.

“He looked at the falling leaves and thought how easily nature lets go of what is no longer needed, preparing itself in absolute, quiet faith for the spring to come.”

— Leo Tolstoy, Resurrection