It's slightly cool and very moist. The sound of gurgling from the neighbor's fountain matches the general wetness, though I notice that our driveway seems much damper than the street.
Two doors down I spot a bluebird flitting from branch to branch, flashing its bright plumage in the dusk. A few steps away a giant arborvitae towers over a small culvert that is fenced off with split rails and a tough vine that sports purple flowers earlier in the season. In the meadow, a soft mist is gathering in the twilight.
Copper and I turn around under the large maple that will be flaming scarlet in a month or so. But for now ... it's still green.