“The red blooms on the geranium plants sitting on my windowsills look strikingly bright against the gray outside, and their sweet, spicy smell fills the house. It’s autumn again, the nights have turned chilly, the rains and winds have begun, and the plants that enjoyed the summer’s warm sun on my desk have been brought into the house. I know it’s autumn again because that big, ugly, hulking spider is back at the corner of the door spinning his web to catch me every morning when I go out to feed the jays.In the markets, last year’s warehouse apples are on sale, piled in large boxes on the floor to make room for the new crop. Summer’s fresh sweet plums, peaches and apricots have disappeared from the counters, replaced with crisp cabbages and squashes of all shapes, sizes and kinds. Bright orange pumpkins are piled outside and inside. Children dance around them trying to find the biggest, the roundest, the best for carving.This year gasoline and heating oil prices are high and the self-serving petroleum industry has announced that prices will rise even more to meet the higher demands of winter. But on the brighter side, the Whidbey road crews have slowed their work and are disappearing to wherever they go in the winter. Garage sale signs have been replaced with large and small, gaudy and sedate candidate signs.The sounds of football games with bands playing lively renditions of Tequila. referee whistles and cheering crowds echo through town, while overhead, honking geese faithfully follow their leader through the sky. Hopefully, lawn chairs and hammocks have been stored and sealer quickly spread on decks between rain storms. But lawn mowers have not yet been drained and put away — after all, we’ve just finished cheering the Mariners through the playoffs and will be checking out the subway World Series. The headlines for the Huskies, Cougars and Seahawks still catch our attention.Across Whidbey, trees are making their transition, shedding their leaves and old needles. Before long, gutters filled with goopy, wet, rotted stuff will need to be cleaned However, Seniors! Beware of ladders! It’s worth it to pay a young, more agile person, with better balance, to do the job.Autumn could be called the tasty season, with cinnamon flavored applesauce, spicy apple and pumpkin pies, warm apple dumplings, fresh oysters in the first oyster stew, a simmering soup kettle sending forth delectable fragrances of vegetables and herbs. Outside, the air is cool and fresh, full-bodied, pungent; we effortlessly fill our lungs. Autumn is the loveliest of the seasons, even beating out spring, I think. It is the best season for walking in the woods, relishing the rich reds, yellows, ochres, oranges and golds. It is feathery clouds of breath on nippy days and mornings with a shimmering, translucent covering of frosty lace on lawns and fields.The season finds us reluctant in the morning to climb out from under warm covers. We flinch as our feet hit the cold floor on the way to the stove or thermostat. Even the carpeting withdraws and shrinks, no longer warmly embracing the toes. Warm socks come out of the back of a drawer and furry, fuzzy slippers from the back of the closet.I used to look for woolly caterpillars in the fall with their orange and brown stripes. Each year grandparents repeated the legend that the number of stripes foretold the coming winter weather — the more stripes the worse it would be. And if the caterpillar had a heavy covering of fuzz, it was a sign to lay in more wood. I have no idea if it is true or where the woolly caterpillars have gone.I miss the smell of mothballs announcing the arrival of fall when my mother would open the special moth-balled closet and get out all the warm clothing put away in the spring. Woolen coats, jackets, hats, gloves, mittens, socks, scarves, sweaters would have to be hung outside on the clothesline to air before wearing. The unique odor of mothballs would permeate classrooms, churches, restaurants — wherever two or more gathered. Clothes lasted a long time back then. They were made of tough, durable material meant to wear forever. They were often stiff and uncomfortable and didn’t fit well, but no one really cared. We spent as much time as possible outside absorbing the fall crisp air, crunching leaves underfoot and piling them up to jump into, running through the woods, smelling and tasting the goodness of autumn.It is a season of transition to be appreciated and enjoyed. “