Every autumn, as the sun hangs lower for the season, it seems to rest beside me while I sip morning coffee and scan the headlines. Light floods the window near my armchair, its presence so sharp that I sometimes squint as I read the newspaper. There are other mornings when the stubborn brilliance in our front room feels like a tug on my sleeve, the new day inviting me to join it beyond the threshold.

That’s just the encouragement I need to start my morning walk.

My neighbor, Paul, is often in his yard as I stroll by.

“This is our reward,” he told me the other day as we compared notes on the comfortably cool weather. “We earned this by going through August.”

It was a nice reminder that the morning in which we’d landed, cool as a cellar and bright as a dime, was exactly what we’d hoped f

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