These last weeks of summer sag under their own weight and begin to give way to the approaching season. The petunia plants have pretty much stopped flowering and hang bedraggled over the edges of their pots. The night noises of crickets and tree frogs have begun to subside and in their place are more urgent howls and screeches of animals who sense the changes of moisture and temperature. So I'm thinking about autumn and the energy the cooler air brings. I'm thinking how sharply in focus everything seems against an acid-blue sky, almost too perfect to be real, and how the colors of a New England fall day make the simple act of breathing a prayer of thanks. And as much as autumn is the precursor to the sleep and death of winter, it brings to me vitality and purpose, reminding me in the most glorious way that circles do remain unbroken.