Yesterday, as the day before, I went for a walk in the woods.

Yesterday, not as the day before, the few people I crossed paths with all said the same thing “Have to take advantage of it. It’s the last day.”

Each time I heard this I smiled and I nodded and I said “Oh yes.” and somewhere deep inside I did know what we meant.

It’s not of course true — nor was it then — that it was “the” last day. Nor was it the last day of fall. Nor was it the last day (I hope) that we would walk these paths. But it was “the” last day.

It was a day where the breeze and the number of leaves left on their branches were “just right” for us to be able to hear and smell and feel and see the leaves that were raining down ever so gently. It was a day where there were already enough fallen leaves underfoot, where things were dry enough and the air warm enough that we could not only feel our steps but we could hear them and we could smell that amazing autumn musk. It was the day of the most amazing light and it was somehow, the day (of the season? of the year?) of perfect balance, of completion.

Today, in the rain, many of the remaining leaves will fall. I suppose that these many leaves will cover some of what was still visible yesterday.

And even though I know that yesterday wasn’t the last day, I also know that it was. Certainly today the light in our house isn’t that amazing bath of yellow.