It was almost 70 degrees today. One of my neighbors has a morning glory in bloom over the front door. I saw it as I walked down the the river through my quiet neighborhood, taking in the jack-o-lanterns — real carved pumpkins with quizzical grins and swirling eyes and the shadows of black cats. The sun was sinking at 4 p.m., and the oak trees are turning bronze and yellow, and no matter what the weather says, fall is here.
It’s the season for hot drinks, mulling spices, sitting around a table with knitting and bright yarn, or board games, or pet theories. It’s the season for long conversations in the early evenings.
There is no joy like a good talk, when you never seem to run out of new ideas, when every challenge from another speaker wakes you up, when you find yourself laughing because you can hardly believe how natural it feels to talk with the one across the table or over the phone.
And across the next week in the Berkshires, we have a lot to listen to.
