It was a beautiful Labor Day weekend in Montpelier.  Sunny with dry air, cool in the mornings and warm in the afternoons.  On several occasions, one could look at the sky and not see a single cloud in it.  The sort of Holiday weekend that a 9-to-5’er dreams of.  The town was very quiet, even the Saturday morning Farmer’s Market was a subdued affair.

On Sunday, I went down to the State House lawn as it is a very pleasant place to read, and I had a book that was keeping me occupied.  I had spent the morning in a coffee shop, but the day had warmed and it was too beautiful to stay inside.  There were only a few people about on the spacious lawn and it promised to be a delightful spot to while away some time.

But as I was walking in the shade under some trees, I noticed something which gave me pause.  My footsteps were making a crunching noise as I walked along.  I was walking upon dry, dead leaves that had fallen from the trees.  As I looked down, I realized that here was the first touch of Autumn.  Although the air was warm and the sky a beautiful summer cobalt, nonetheless I was treading upon the evidence of the change of the season.  The trees knew what was coming and were sharing that knowledge with any who chose to notice.  Autumn is already upon us.

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