I have written this newsletter backwards, which is to say that I started at the end and am now at the beginning, and I might even pause in the middle of this beginning to make a tea. What I was going to do was write a letter to October, asking it to stay a little warmer than it might otherwise, asking it to not let all the leaves go before I have time to look at them in their oranges and reds and other fire-colours. Instead I will just mention a small incident that provided me with sense of a summer ending, of autumn beginning: