Switchover Day

On Thursday I stowed all my short-sleeved tee shirts in the guestroom closet and brought the long-sleeved jerseys to hang near my bed. The outdoor temperature was in the forties. We may not top the low seventies again till spring.

It’s often struck me how law and culture define sharp boundaries, of necessity, for changes that are really gradual. When are you really mature enough to drink or drive, or to vote wisely? When does one become a person or an adult? How fast is it really safe to drive on a country road? By what date is a landlord required to heat the apartment?

This week I was struck by the personal need to do the same. Although switching the wardrobe from summer to winter, or the thermostat from cool to heat, isn’t tied to a specific date on the calendar, these markers of the turning season happen on a single day. Meanwhile the world orbits the sun, leaf colors deepen week by week, and the level on the outdoor thermometer bobs up and down.

​By any measure, fall is well and truly here.