Monday is the September equinox, better known as the first day of fall. It’s a time of the year when day and night are approximately equal length, and our sun will be directly above the equator at 1:19 p.m.
I like rainy days, how whatever light there is softly illuminates everything around us. But even I’m sick of all the clouds we’ve had lately here in Rochester. I know I’ve shared this wonderful trail along the Zumbro River before, but I was struck yesterday (and this morning) by how many leaves had already fallen. Two weeks ago, the pavement was practically bare. Here’s hoping we get a bit more sunshine this week.
On a whim just north of St. Peter, I drove down a windy gravel road in a valley cloaked in dense morning fog. An old barn decayed on one side of the gravel road. Fallen leaves lined the shoulders of the minimum-maintenance road. “Travel at your own risk,” a sign said. But the fog kept drawing me in. I saw a cow skull on a gate. A wooden outbuilding, tipped over. A small brook running along round rocks. I thought of my teenage years when I tore down river roads in my first car, my mind racing, in search of something new.
Eventually I climbed out of the river valley. Looking down the rows of corn, everything faded into nothingness in the distance. I drove through fog so thick that it seemed like oncoming trucks materialized suddenly, as if from a different dimension. But then I arrived near St. Peter, and the sun came out of hiding, and the cornstalks, tall like NBA forwards, shined in the golden rays.
I came to my favorite spot in Minneapolis, the Lake Harriet Bandshell, three months ago to the minute to welcome summer. The welcoming of fall felt different: Instead of a perfect summer morning, it was a hazy fall morning after thunderstorms the day before, with airplanes heard but not seen overhead. There are two perfect seasons in Minnesota: the end of spring, and the beginning of fall. The upcoming forecast shows it: highs in the 70s for the next two weeks! On Monday, the first day of fall, one fisherman cast his line near the scores of sailboats. Another sat alone in a boat in the middle of the lake. Runners ran and cyclists cycled, knowing this perfect season will be glorious but short.
Always one for dramatic flair, Juniper shielded her eyes from the first smattering of crunchy leaves strewn across her St. Cloud backyard: Maybe if she doesn’t see them, they don’t exist. Sorry, Juni — the sun has set on summer, and fall arrived with clear skies and a wee bit of humidity in central Minnesota midday Monday.
But fret not, dear doggo: The arrival of autumn beckons shorter evenings that mean more time for snuggling and hibernating on the couch. For pups, fall means (generally) crisper air for walks, the arrival of pumpkins to be carved (and the innards eaten), and the time of year that locally grown apples are abundant in the fridge (and also shared with four-legged friends).
It was quiet on Hill Lake on this first day of fall, just outside Hill City, Minn., where residents were preparing to bury a Korean War vet whose remains were recently identified. There was just a hint of color to the leaves on trees near the glassy lake, situated just south of Grand Rapids.
