As I write, that magical and fleeting stretch of New England weather that begins sometime in September and ends sometime in October is upon us. The air is crisp. The stinging morning cold strikes your face like a boxer’s landing blow. Momentarily jarred, it takes a second to register this strange phenomenon, this thing cold. You shrug, knowing that come brunchtime, remnants of Summer will again regain the upper hand… for a few hours at least.

Squirrels and chipmunks are in overdrive, mad-dashing about to top their coffers before the impending freeze. A tree here or there with a curious hue seemingly overnight explodes into an entire landscape doused in a spectacular Autumnal color palette.

Weekends are earmarked for trips to the apple orchard, in search of macs, pumpkins, pies and cider donuts. And come the sabbath, even the most casual of fans find it difficult to abstain from tuning in for some gridiron heroics.

I feel most at home during the shoulder seasons of Fall and Spring. I try to counteract the rate of change around me with appreciation and reverence. It works sometimes. I want to stop time so I don’t miss some small, but important detail.

Inevitably at some juncture, vibrant yellows, reds and oranges give way to brown, rust and outright nakedness. Trees are without shame.

The excitement of the early season melts slowly and the first inkling of the approaching cold flips a switch in some distant recess of my mind. Eyes closed, I try to shake off the thought, preferring the self-delusion that maybe this time is different, that these landscapes might stay forever like some kind of quaint time capsule. It works for a minute… maybe.

If you’re up for some adventure, this is the time where hikers are treated to the full visual splendor of New England. Albeit slightly premature to “peak,” I set course for my immediate area’s highest peak: Mt. Wachusett. Also known as: Wa-Wa-Wachusett if you’re into local television jingles. A skier, say over the age of 12, might be slightly disappointed with the mountain’s limited vertical drop. A hiker or someone looking for a nice sunset, on the other hand, will be in for quite a treat.

There are tons of trails about, or if you’re feeling a bit sloth-like, you can drive and park at the summit. Once atop, you’re treated to 360 degree views that feature Boston’s skyline to the East and the southern peaks of Vermont and New Hampshire to the North/Northwest. Mt. Monadnock looks especially close, as if a few good chucks of the football would do it… it would not.

I close this missive as the browns reach a preponderance, the oranges and reds a gamely second and the seldom green hangers-on an awkward outlier. I tip my hat to the moment, to catching a shooting star.