I absolutely love commuting this time of year. The rain has just started falling. Tourists are away, locals are back at work and school and have their noses to the grindstone. I have the roads (compared to summer) all to myself. The cyclists are few. The pedestrians are practically nonexistent. The sky smells clean and fresh. The temperatures are perfect to feel comfortable in long sleeves, and excess layers are not needed. I am not cold, nor am I sweaty. The low sunset casts a warm, red-brown glow on everything. Riding home, the whole world looked rosy and delightful, almost like the whole of outside was lit by a candle. Now is the the precious and brief moment when the nearly all the leaves have changed to vibrant hues of orange, red, yellow, and brown and are still on the trees. Winds have been low this month, and while the bike lanes are already colorful and light with fallen leaves, most tress still look full. Rain dapples down, and cools my warm, flushed cheeks. It sprinkles against my arms and bounces off the road. Part of the splendor of this time of year is that everything feels new. Nothing has overstayed it's welcome. Four months into the winter the rain gets tiresome. By the end of summer, the traffic gets tiresome. Now, we are in a delightful transition period. On my bike, I get to greet each day as though it were an old firend, "Hey, you. It's been a year. I missed you!"