A week ago, as I was heading up the sidewalk to my office, the difference in the light struck me. Autumn is on its way. Autumn sunlight comes in at a particular angle. Of course, the angle of the earth to the sun shifts very slowly, so that angle of light changes every day, slowly but surely. You don't notice it as it happens, but then, one day, suddenly the accumulation of change in the angle is enough so that, between one step and another, you realize the difference. During the summer months, sunlight comes streaming in our bedroom windows at an ungodly hour. While I adore the morning sunlight from an asthetic perspective, I am not a morning person (call me "WOL"). Being wakened from a sound sleep by the DAWN! coming up like THUNDER! rouses the snarly beast in me: I used to respond by irritatedly grabbing one of the pillows and stuffing it over my head, grumbling to Mr. OmegaMom and mentally shaking a fist at all those early morning birds twittering outside our windows who can't shut the hell up. Two years ago, I succumbed, and purchased "light blocking" tab-top drapes to put on the bedroom windows. As a result, the DAWN! can come up like THUNDER! all it likes, and I can ignore it. The bird twitters merely melt into my dreams. I can't ignore, however, the OmegaDotter, who often wakes up early and decides to grace us with her horse collection, complete with whinnies, neighs, galloping, and constant putting on and removal of bridles, saddles, and various other horsie paraphernalia. Her tendency to do this is greater on the weekends. This is unfair; weekends are for sleeping late, dammit! She is, however, becoming more able to wander off and do her own thang for a while, and I have become able to sleep (sporadically) through the horse concert, so long as it is not accompanied by the galloping--which requires the dotter bouncing and the horse climbing various body parts. The summer afternoon and evening sunlight streams into our great room (also like THUNDER!) through one window, reflecting off the TV screen and glaring into the eyes of whoever sits at the dining table facing the window. But the season is changing. It is no longer still light at 8:30; instead, the sun is setting at 7:00, pouring shades of pink, fuschia, purple, and blazing red onto the monsoon clouds that have built up during the day. Soon, the sunlight will no longer be trying to roust us out of bed, but rather blazing into our eyes as we drive into town. For most folks, this shift in seasonal light means cooler temperatures; where we are, we will have a spike upwards, as the monsoon fades away and the cool shade of the clouds vanishes. September is always one of our warmest months, with warmer days and cooler nights, and the cooling effect of the northern hemisphere tilting away from the sun doesn't kick in until mid-October. By Halloween it will have cooled down considerably, and then we shift into winter mode. I love the way the light acts as an announcement of autumn. Autumn is my most favorite season--it always fills me with a gentle melancholy, a wistfulness, coupled with a seize-the-day joy that revels in every day where the sunlight outlines the needles on the pine trees and the clear air is filled with that ever-so-slight bite of coolness. Seasons to come, seasons past--autumn is transition time. A chance to look forward to winter, snow, skiing, fires in the woodstove, snowmen, holidays. A chance to look back at the fun of summer--swimming, picnics, playgrounds, bike rides. But it's not here yet; the light is just notice of things to come.

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Speaking of picnics and summer fun, check out A Day at the Races, over at OmegaGranny's blog.