Coming out of my local library this afternoon, the world sounded different. There was a kind of rustling, along with a hint of even a different scent. For once, the scent wasn't smoke from a fire up country, it was, I decided, the scent of autumn.
Where it's not even mid-August, it seems early for this, but maybe I'm some kind of optimist who still doesn't expect any such change until closer to September. Nonetheless, early autumn certainly seemed to be in the air.
Then, walking to my car, I stopped to chat with a woman who felt the same change I did. So at least it was comforting in a way to know I wasn't alone in my feelings.
And sure enough, leaves beneath the trees only confirmed these early autumn thoughts.
I'm counting on more summer ahead, but can't pretend I'm not mindful that the season has already begun its steady shift.
By the way, I couldn't help but wonder about the word that came to mind earlier: harbinger. As with so many of the words in our language, it's an oldie and has some interesting history.
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