For the first time in a very long memory, the meteorological season has coincided with the astronomical season. 

Our weather here in Madison, Wisconsin, does not often change on the dates fixed by Ptolemy and other stargazers. 

But this year we got our first fall chill smack dab on Sunday, September 22, the autumnal equinox. On the very day when the plane of Earth’s equator passed through the geometric center of the Sun’s disk, the temperature dropped twenty degrees, from 87 to 67. 

(We Americans still use Daniel Fahrenheit’s old-fashioned degrees. The Celsius scale, which we used to call Centigrade, is more logical. But what are the chances we’d do something that makes sense?)

Highs are expected to stay below 80 for the next ten days at least. Nighttime lows, for now, should remain well above 32 degrees, the freezing point of water. That’s good, because the fall raspberries are coming on strong. I’m picking two or three cups each day. I eat them on my breakfast oatmeal. My wife has already made some of them into freezer jam.

I’d hate to see these raspberries cut short by Jack Frost, the silent assassin.

Other signs of fall are in the air. The geese, not yet in full flight southward, are assembling into fairly large vees and making test flights. They’ll be off soon. 

Some logs I acquired in midsummer now sit on our wood rack, uttering silent reproach for my not having split them yet. Time to hone the axe.

I think the fall is the finest season here. The weather may be warm, sparkling, and sunny; or it may be cool, misty, arboreal. In any case it’s always beautiful until the hammer comes down in late October or early November. Then the winds will pick up, slicing icily through everyone and everything. Winter will not be far behind. 

Soon, the frost will be on the pumpkins. It’s comforting to know the kale in our garden will still be producing fresh leaves when snow is on the ground. It’ll be good in soup.

Blessings,

Larry F. Sommers

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