Whispered applause
I love this time of year. The temperature is perfect: refreshing rather than bracing. The moisture is not really necessary, but it’s not unwelcome if it’s not raining. But the best thing (at least this year) is the sound of the leaves. They’re still vibrant and supple, but they’re beginning to dry up and get brittle. Consequently, when the wind blows through them, it sounds to me as if they are whispering to each other about their youthful, summer exploits and applauding each other’s successes.
How they hear their whispers over the applause I don’t know.
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