The first day of fall comes foggy to St. Louis.
The Starling are gathering in flocks to fly south over the roofs of red brick homes as the squirrels are storing away their cash against the hunger of winter.
The nights grow cooler and the garden is going to seeds as flocks of geese over head honk their formation of V.
On que the leaves of city trees are loosing their green, dropping their dressing to the delight of children who kick the fallen spoils that hid the sparrow nest nested among the branches of oaks, silver maples and cottonwoods growing at the bank of Boone Pond where the frogs sun themselves.
Today I shall remove the air-condition from the window; all summer long it has served me well but is no longer need to hum its cooling calm into my once heated room.
I shall go into the basement and unpack my sweaters and fall jackets and put away my shorts and thin cotton short sleeve shirts.
Now is the time to start saving for Christmas , its time to get my house in order, to clean the filter of the furnace, to clean out the garden, to change the batteries of the smoke detectors and to can some apples; all ritual of fall.
The sun has risen above the horizon and is busy burning off the fog. The traffic noise from a main thoroughfare near by has increased as people go about their busy work day.
A gray squirrel is running alone the telephone cable strung from pole to pole down the alley. It is time for me to be as busy as bees harvesting the last bit of pollen from the mums and four-o-clocks still in bloom.
