There are quite a few markers of the shift in time as the seasons arrive. My favorite part of this season in particular is the smell. Or I should say smells.
When the piles of leaves that surround each yard become piled up, and rain comes to melt the foliage together, there is an earthy aroma that fills my nose. The rain in itself has different scents depending on how cold it is or if it is windy. Adding the rotting leaves makes it a more full bodied stench.
Then there is the drifting of chimney smoke. It is rare nowadays, seemingly only for special occasions or for when you are not expecting it to hit you as you walk by your neighbor's house in the evening. It always makes me rush home so I can compete with their comfy levels.
There are the mornings when I wake up and can literally smell the cold lingering around my bedside, right beyond my fortress of warmth beneath the covers. Waiting. Ready to pounce. Just my nose poking out until I find the courage to venture further.