The slide of calendar pages coincides with the roar of yellow school buses this week as folks in Carding start to walk a bit faster.

Even though the temperatures are still balmy during the day, you definitely need a sweater or light jacket in the evening. There’s a reason for the wide variety of outerwear (as the retailers like to call it) in everyone’s closet.

But before they fast-forward through fall, some folks are pausing at Edie Wolfe’s house to celebrate the change of seasons.

Let’s join them, shall we?

Welcome to Carding, Vermont where life always includes a dash of the unexpected. You can find the little town that no one can seem to find on a map right here in the Carding Chronicles and in the four novels of Carding, Vermont, The Road Unsalted, Thieves of Fire, The Dazzling Uncertainty of Life, and Lights in Water, Dancing.

If you haven’t already, don’t forget to subscribe to the Chronicle by clicking the link on this page. That way, you’ll never miss a story.

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Ruth Goodwin pulled back the curtain on Edie’s front window to peer across Carding green.

“Are you sure they’ll come?” she asked again.

Edie smiled as she fished a set of heavy wine glasses from the deepest regions of the most seldom-used cabinet in her kitchen. Though not to her more simple taste, Edie treasured the gaudy stemware. They’d belonged to her grandmother, Kitty Wolfe.

Edie always thought of her grandmother as a no-nonsense kind of lady. Oh, Kitty baked her share of cookies, hosted Thanksgiving dinners, and tended cuts and bruises with solicitous care. But Kitty preferred things in her life to be rather stripped down and practical.

So why in the world did she own a dozen fluted glasses in swirls of deep autumn gold with overripe eggplant-colored stems? They were so unlike her.

“Do you know if anyone has everything done yet?” Ruth called from the living room while Edie rinsed the drinking vessels under the tap and wiped them dry.

“I think everyone has made a start,” she said. “I saw Lydie in the Coop yesterday, and she’s cut down the small garden by her front door.”

“What about Agnes? There was a huge pile of wood in their front yard when I drove by yesterday afternoon,” Ruth said.

Edie craned her head around the doorway so she could see her best friend. Of the two of them, Ruth had always worried more about…well…about everything, really. Agnes often teased her about being the lady with the permanently puckered brow.

Ruth caught the glance, and laughed at herself. “I know, I know,” she said. “But at my age, I’m scarcely going to change, am I?”

“Do you want to put your rolls out on the table?” Edie suggested.

Ruth grinned. “So that I’ll stop fretting by the front window?” she said. “Sure.”

While some of the younger families in Carding relied on oil-burning furnaces for winter heat and the shelves of the Coop for fresh veggies, the majority of Carding-ites loved the deep warmth of their wood stoves and smothering their pancakes in applesauce they’d canned themselves.

Participation in these rituals means stacking wood, gardening, and picking fruit at local farms. These activities inevitably lead to what Edie calls “the delicate dance of autumn.”

“You have to hit it just right,” her friend Andy Cooper advises first-timers to the traditions. “If you start stacking wood too early in September, you’ll die of the heat while you’re doing it. It’s definitely a chore you want to save for a cool day. And let your gardens go as long as you can to get every last bit of the harvest.”

Of course, the trouble with this timing business is hitting the sweet spot of daytime temperatures cool enough to stack wood but not so cold that cutting back a garden means frozen fingers.

Locals figure that you can ignore the first swirl of frozen precipitation because “it doesn’t stick.” So their lawn furniture stays out because the wood and gardens take precedence. In general, this means that Halloween is a good target for “getting it all done.”

But one year, the first snow came on October 15th, and it was deep, about ten inches. And  it stayed cold.

“Froze my picnic table to the ground,” Charlie Cooper said. “And I still had half my wood to stack. That was a miserable fall.”

But none of that matters tonight. Now is the time for Edie’s annual celebration with her friends, the moment when they gear up for the race to winter readiness.

Hence the gaudy glasses, the ones that looked like harvest to Edie’s eye and, she suspected, to her grandmother’s as well. They’d fill and refill them with wine or sherry over their traditional supper of roasted chicken, squash from Andy’s garden, potatoes from Lydie’s, onion dressing courtesy of Agnes’s dirt digging, and applesauce made from the first fruit from the trees in Edie’s backyard.

She held one of the glasses up to the fading September light, admiring its rich color. There’s so much pleasure in the change of seasons.

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School starts soon and even though the daytime temperatures are still quite warm, the hours of daylight are getting shorter.

So the thoughts of folks who live in Carding, Vermont are turning to the next season on the calendar.

There are signs everywhere, if you know where to look, of the autumn to come.

Let’s check in on the waning of August in Carding, shall we?

Welcome to Carding, Vermont where life always includes a dash of the unexpected. You can find the little town that no one can seem to find on a map right here in the Carding Chronicles and in the four novels of Carding, Vermont, The Road Unsalted, Thieves of Fire, The Dazzling Uncertainty of Life, and Lights in Water, Dancing.

If you haven’t already, don’t forget to subscribe to the Chronicle by clicking the link on this page. That way, you’ll never miss a story.

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Even though the days have been growing steadily shorter since June 22 (the day after the summer solstice), no one seemed to notice until the calendar reached August. Suddenly, the lazing air of July has taken on a new urgency.

The town beach is crowded with families during the day and teenagers trying out their night moves in the evening. The lines at the Coop’s ice cream window are longer, and there were more lawn chairs parked gathered on the green for the summer’s last free concert than there have been all season.

In the midst of the annual August hustle, people start watching a certain maple that gracefully arches over the waters of Half Moon Lake. Everyone in town knows that this particular tree’s precarious perch make it susceptible to “early autumnal onset,” as Andy Cooper once described it.

In other words, this seasonal bellwether is the one that signals the oncoming rush of orange, yellow and red foliage. 

Like so many other things in Carding, a friendly local competition has sprung up to see who spots the change first. The dynamic duo that does the weather on Dirt Road Radio started promoting it this year so interest has spiked.

The winner has to take a picture with a date stamp to prove the sighting. In return, she or he gets bragging rights, a T-shirt from the Coop, and a day’s ration of warm muffins from the Crow Town Bakery. 

So who do you think will take the prize this year? Here are some of your choices.

Ruth Goodwin, in her position as the town’s splendiferous mail carrier, is usually the first one to notice the oncoming yellow because she drives Beach Road, which is the easiest access point to the “first tree,” every day. 

But Charlie Cooper, semi-retired lawyer and social activist, has been regularly commuting to the state capital, Montpelier, since taking on a consulting job last spring. There’s a gap in the trees just before he turns onto Route 37 where he can see the tree. So he thinks he’s in a good position to get the scoop on Ruth.

Earlier this month, Wil Bennett vowed to paddle his kayak on the lake every morning in August, and he always circles Half Moon so some of the early betting is on him. 

His younger sister Faye, however, is not to be outdone. Much to her parents’ amazement, she has taken up sunrise running on the beach. She swears it has nothing to do with the fact that her boyfriend, Dave Muzzy, is also sprinting there. 

But I’ll let you be the judge of that.

Then, of course, there’s the ever-reliable angler, Bruce Elliott, who always stops to cast a hook in the water on his way to and from work as well as Mr. Yancy, the refugee from the tech sector who’s passionate about birds.

You can eliminate all of the people who own condos and houses on the golf course on Mount Merino. To them, Half Moon Lake, seen in the distance from the fifth, sixth, and seventh holes, is nothing more than an anonymous sparkle in the distant landscape. Years ago, their landowners association tried to purchase lakeside property but couldn’t scare up any willing sellers so they mostly ignore the lake in favor of their new pool.

It’s just as well because the folks who live in Carding proper have never granted any Mount Merino resident the status of “local.”

Tree watching has been the subject of friendly banter and passing-the-time conversation everywhere that town folk rub shoulders—the bank, the bakery, the library, town hall, and the Coop. 

Andy’s going to post the winning picture on the community bulletin board at the front of his store. Afterwards, people will go back to filling the remainder of their summer days with a frenetic round of barbecues and biking dates while digging out a fleece vest or two for the cooling evening air.

And that rumbling you hear in the distance are the school buses revving up for the start of another year.

Aah yes, change is in the air.

Remember, you can visit Carding any time by reading one of my four Carding novels, The Road Unsalted, Thieves of Fire, The Dazzling Uncertainty of Life, or Lights in Water, Dancing.

Thanks for stopping by.