Autumn doesn’t patter in on little cat feet in Chicago. it doesn’t arrive on anybody’s schedule. One day, it just is.

People generally grumble like overtaxed serfs on this day because it means that weather soon will reclaim its supremacy over us. Color compensates elsewhere in the Midwest for this indignity. Not here. Not much.

Some fight back by pretending. Cyclists wear windbreakers, which do nothing to break wind. Walkers bend forward like ship’s prows to slice the gusts. Some fools continue wearing flip flops, thus providing their feet the unhappy task of walking while morphing into numb.

We do not like Autumn one little bit. In Chicago, it really is a fall.