The beginning of September is remarkable for the appearance of yellow school buses and the drone of cicadas. Like all signals, there are consequences. In these events (as in all others) it is a mixture of novelty, application and evolution. The novelty is the buzz of people and pursuits; the application is study and seasonal adjustment; the evolution is approaching what we’re to do and where we’re to go. In short it is a recipe for adventure and improvement.

It is as well an opportunity for hindsight.  The expiry of summer – and the association with cottages, golf, barbecues and elongated sunny days – provokes the yearning for Indian Summer and perhaps extension of the favourable weather past the middle of October. Hearing the shrill of cicadas is for me elemental to the changing atmosphere before being overtaken by swirling wind, falling leaves and grey mornings. For the moment however we have yet to see the cornstalks harvested.

In the remaining dry oven heat of the yellow orb it is difficult to imagine long trousers and sweaters. Yet the evening air quickly cools, the shadows are long, followed by inevitable retreat indoors. It is a proximate credential, unavoidable but inspiring nonetheless. The splendid days of summer – in spite of the unfolding envelope of change – linger both imaginatively as well as viscerally. We’re hesitant to release the metaphor from our grip.