Seasonal change is a subtle art around here. Seasons do not smack you upside the head as they do on the East Coast ... or virtually anywhere else. One has to look for the faintest clues of change. And I, friends, fancy myself the Sherlock Holmes of Autumn. Though Fall in San Francisco is almost infalliby just a version of Indian Summer, making it possible at last to venture outside sans cardigan, it is still most definitely Fall. My favorite. My first Doyle-esque clue of its onset this morning? The faint haze in the air. I'm sure an astronomer could explain it to me in terms of the Earth's shifting axis, or something, but I can't pretend to understand. I just love it. Again, it's very subtle, but even amidst the sunshine - it's there. It just puts me in a wonderful mood. I think Tom Hanks' character in "You've Got Mail" (you know you like the movie) put it perfectly when he wrote to Meg Ryan, "it makes me want to send you a bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils." Though Spring always claims the virtue of rejuvenation, I cannot help but think that for those whose year still revolves around excitement over new books and lined leaf paper, Fall is the true season of new possibilities, excitement, and hope.