It's about 50 degrees right now, and as I look outside my open dining room window, there's golden light winding through the blackberries and dahlias. I say golden not to be excessively poetic, but because I mean there's a particular autumnal quality to the light that you don't see in summer--it's a little cleaner, a little brighter, a little more rich. All the colors seem like they get more saturated this time of year. I feel excited, but also a small degree of subconscious dread. I'm anticipating something.