I know it is fall without looking at the calendar. First thing in the morning, I have to turn a light on outside before taking the puppy out. The days are that much shorter.

I know it is fall because I never have the right clothes on when I go outside. I grab a jacket for that first morning trip, but I don't do it up. When I get out, I can zip it if I need to. But come afternoon, I might need that jacket or a short sleeve shirt. I might need another sweater. And I better keep that sweater handy because by evening I may want it even inside.

At least I don't need the air conditioner to cool the house down. Just open the windows overnight. I do need to remember to empty the dehumidifier though. And one of these nights I will leave too many windows wide open, and the house will be cold. If the sun shines, we'll be fine as our east facing windows will let in the light and warm us up. But, because it is fall, there will be a cloudy morning when I have to put on the fire place in the living room to get comfortable.

I know it is fall because most days there are fewer cars on the road. Cottagers have gone back to work, and their kids are in school. I say most days, because that is also hard to predict. Saturday there was some kind of motorcycle rally. The road was busier than ever.  And there are school buses, which is lovely to see. I am glad kids get to be in person at school.

I know summer is over because some of the flower pots are starting to look tired. Not all. The calla lilies are still blooming bright, as are the impatiens and the petunias. But the hanging baskets have less colour and are a bit straggly. The cucumber vines are turning yellow.

Looking at the tomato plants, however, it could still be July. They are blooming and more fruit is on the way. The lettuce is also producing well, but those plants do suggest we are past the dog days of August as they show no sign of bolting. I've known for a while now that the climate on the road side of the house is different from the water side. Right now, it seems as if there is a different season on the south side of the house.

Everywhere else, the signs are clear. The lawn is dotted with leaves, some green--pulled off by the high winds--and some a beautiful red. The sumac started to change a couple weeks ago thanks to sumac gall, but there are now splashes of colour on other trees. Soon, the lawn won't just be dotted with leaves but covered.

There are still monarchs and other butterflies. I hear cicadas, see dragonflies. Fewer mosquitoes, though ever time I say that when walking in the forest, I seem to come across a bunch. I had been seeing hummingbirds regularly, but not the last few days. I wonder if they've left.

The seagulls have gone quiet. I never noticed this before moving here, but all winter they are almost silent. Their raucous calls begin in spring, carry on all summer. But these days, I watch them float on the bay, wing past the house, their voices hushed.

Mallards have started to congregate in larger groups. Most of the summer, it is just mom and chicks. Now, larger flocks gather. And a flight of geese in formation flew by the other day, trying out their migration procedure.

The equinox is still a week away. Technically, it is still summer. But in all the ways that matter, fall has begun.

Cathy Hird lives on the traditional territory of the Saugeen Ojibway