In East-Central Indiana, the arrival of Autumn is heralded by a reduction in the temps and a rise in the humidity, if such a thing is actually possible.
Pre-dawn fog blankets the ground, dew on the grass makes for wet dog paws after their morning trip to the yard to take care of business, and the leaves that fall stay moist enough that burning a pile of leaves usually requires a liberal application of kerosene to keep them burning. Luckily, the neighbors are used to it as well, and nobody complains about the plumes of white smoke wafting lazily upwards.
It's the sort of weather where you pull on wool socks and a hoodie in the morning, and switch to tennis shoes and a t-shirt by early afternoon. It's the sort of weather that makes your morning coffee just that much better as it warms you from within, while your breath forms small clouds of vapor as you gaze out over the harvested cornfields, east to the rising sun. It's the sort of weather that brings a measure of calm and peace to a troubled soul who can't look west and see the mountains any more.
It's different, and yet so very familiar from my years past.