It’s the end of August.
Kids from kindergarten to college are back in school, traffic is thick on the streets, and the mugginess is enough to stop you in your tracks.
It’s the end of summer, and then end of the dry season, and the end of the tourists (at least to a small degree).
It’s almost autumn, but it doesn’t feel like it to me. Autumn should be cool nights, scarves dug out of a bottom drawer, the smell of leaves changing and falling and being crunched underfoot. It should be football and cold bleachers and hot cocoa and warm pumpkin bread and crisp mornings.
Autumn in Hawaii is the shift from dry to wet, from very hot to not quite as hot. It has its own niceness to it, but it’s still not the right feel for autumn to me.