On a recent morning jog, passing through a wooded stretch, a hint of autumn washed over me. There was a slight chill to the air and a morning shower created a musky dampness, leaving the air smelling of decaying earth. An overnight windstorm had prematurely tugged leaves from their branches and scattered them along the pathway. And the heart skipped a beat as the realization hit, though still mid-August, fall lay just around the next bend.  The urge pressed in...