What may we say of the season lest it passes and falls withered and spent to spring unremarked? Without some words of tranquil grandeur, we may fail to hear the message it would but give us, through its long, dark intervention of sunnier splendours. I wear neither a heavy coat, nor gloves this season, for the inclemency is favourable. As it is at the onset of autumn when the last leaf drops to a forest floor and trees bereft of rainment stretch upright in sad need of a worthiness that only the rains of April shall deliver. Let them wait and stand sentinel against a darkening sky that to us writes its name in starlight as time without end. Come faithful hound and we shall navigate the dusk by the light of the heavens and when we are done; we shall have freshly baked bread and jam for tea.