The air is cooling, a torrent of nostalgia and hope, disconsolate breaths, echoes of sighs and whispers. Touch the velvet decadence of sumach, the curled, browned beauty of dessicated Queen Anne’s lace, the teasels and burrs in their sculptural perfection. Yellows appear, a million wistful browns, but also fiery reds, fervent burgundies, thick and saturated as garnets and wine. The skies observe impassively, so often colourless now in their lush showcase of greys. Spring gets all the attention, our loud enthusiasm for bursting, blossoms, wetness and abandon. But there’s passion in fall’s rueful, diffuse melancholy, its slow and subtle crescendo. Embrace the poignant, the exquisitely brief, this palette of longing. Drink in these colours, understated so to ready our eyes for merciless glacial hues ahead. -Tanya Fenkell