As our globe traverses its annual cycle around the star that gives us light, the angle at which that star's rays strike my home changes. As unstoppable time pushes us ever forward into the third quarter of the year, that angle becomes more oblique and the days become shorter and cooler. The leaves on the trees change color and fall to the ground. Squirrels stockpile nuts, bears eat hearty, growing fat for a long winter's nap, and great, particulate clouds and dotted Vs of birds take to the air for more survivable climates.

Autumn, my favorite season, dawns upon North America.

The light of the sunset in autumn has special properties not seen the rest of the year. I suppose it's different for residents of other latitudes, but here the solar rays of an early fall evening possess an intensely poignant spectrum of melancholy joy. A heart-piercing clarion call of the voice of the past sending a tentative greeting to the future.

This light is the light of memory. Memories of walks with my Grandmother Waggener, scuffling through fallen leaves. Memories of past celebrations of Thanksgiving, another of my favorites. Memories of jackets, pyjamas, cold puddles, and grey skies.

A memory of the autumn that must have been in the year I was in first grade. I remember my father awakening me when he turned on the light in my bedroom. I remember complaining that the sky was still dark and that it was too early to get up. Autumn wasn't my favorite season that day.

Maybe you know exactly what I'm talking about. Maybe this bittersweet light is something you treasure in the passing of the seasons, too. Perhaps, as you stand outside in the early evening at the dawn of autumn looking west, your heart, too, is galvanized by remembrances both joyous and sad. Perhaps your spirit, too, is stirred and uplifted by contemplation of the undimmed possibilities of the future. Perhaps your whole being, like mine, resonates with an overwhelming sense of time, of life, of the infinite mosaic of crystallized events that draws all the temporal vectors of the past and future to an intersection in this eternal, infinitesimal instant.

Perhaps you haven't experienced what I'm talking about. If not, I suggest you investigate this phenomenon. As the autumn sun's perimeter is first breached by the horizon, find a patch of sunshine on the ground. Look west- trace the rays to their origin. Look west to the sun, open your mind and look inward. See if you can feel it, too.

Breathe the autumn air and remember.