To warm-blooded creatures， the crisp， cool nights of September are invigorating. But cold-blooded insects are at the mercy of the sun and now their clocks run down. The cicada is stilled. The chorus of the cricket and katydid diminishes. When they rash at all it is with the deliberate tempo of a fiddler drawing a worn bow across fraying strings.
Now come the hoarding days. Mice have been harvesting and stowing seeds for weeks. The chipmunk lines his winter bedroom， and squirrel hide the nut trees， bounty. The woodchucks， gorging on grass and clover and fruit， lay up their harvest in body fat under their own skins.
The flickers begin to gather for migration. All summer these big woodpeckers were resolutely individual， busy with family life and wanting no company. Now they are gregarious， with time for tribal gossip and community play. The warblers and swallow shave already formed in premigration flocks； soon the robins will be gathering too. Nesting is completed， fledglings are on their own， and there is food in plenty. September is vacation time for birds. Who knows but that they are discussing the trip ahead？
By September’s end the treasure chest of autumn begins to spill over with wealth. You see it glowing in the quiet afternoon， aflame in the sunset. Woodland， roadside and dooryard will soon be jeweled beyond a rajah’s richest dreams.
The year’s season in the sun has run its course. Nature begins to prepare for winter. After the color in the woodlands. the leaves will blanket the soil. The litter of autumn will become much， then humus for root and tender seed. The urgency of growth is ended for another year， but life itself is hoarded in root and bulb and seed and egg.
9月，的确不仅仅是一个月份，还是一个季节，一个收获的季节。在八月离去的时候，它翩翩而来；在10月将要降临的时候，它又徐徐离去。一路上，它悠然自得。历经了夏日的酷热和躁动，一年的时光开始走向成熟，9月踏着自己的节拍，不紧不慢地为来年夏天积蓄力量。