Autumn evening sky,
a single crow returning
to its distant pine.
— Masaoka Shiki

What is autumn to you? Read through a handful of poems and haiku and the themes of falling leaves, harvest and wood smoke come up again and again. For good reason, of course, but there are other themes we associate with autumn: football and crisp air and walks across campus. The return of darkness offers sunrises for late risers and a kalaidescope of stars for those who would otherwise turn in to wonder at.

In New England, at present, a nor’easter that just won’t quit has brought much needed rain, but a less welcome rain of acorns and branches covering everything. People complained about the rain, forgetting the drought, because they only think of a moment’s inconvenience. Autumn will be remembered for what is memorable in its season.

Of course, there are seasons within seasons. September is harvest time, October is foliage and Halloween, November is the beginning of stick season and Thanksgiving. Each month brings its own memories, and with it, its own ghosts of seasons past. That feeling we get when we return to a season is not unlike the feeling of stepping back into an old neighborhood we haven’t been to in years. All seasons stir their own ghosts, ’tis autumn that stirs the most.