My walk to the bus stop confirmed the thing I already knew to be true. The leaves, though some holding their colours and precarious hold on trees, were, for the most part, now detached, lying on the grass, the pavement and in the rain gutters.  The temperature may be warm enough to avoid that winter jacket, but it cannot last.  This is mid autumn, and mid autumn gives way to late autumn which in turn gives way to—

No! I refuse to say it.

For the bulk of this weekend, I may have to rake leaves, but I will withhold acknowledging my foe. I may navigate my way through stores that display only Christmas decorations and play only Christmas songs–Thanksgiving long past for Canadians–but I will not succumb.  I will celebrate these fallen leaves without eager anticipation.

Also, …perhaps hoping to make a case for an entirely different season,  one of my fellow commuters had adorned both some strands of hair and her lips with a dark green I associate with Spring.  Though it may not be effective, I cannot deny that it had some style.