This past weekend, I drove south through the full range of early fall, its different subseasons depending on the progress of the soybeans or corn or goldenrod or tobacco, depending on whether harvest complete or pending, depending on which trees were turning and how far. Sometimes, the specific time of year hinged on the number of fragile cottonwoods along the roadsides, or the advance of the violet Virginia creeper, or the number of fading box elders, catalpas, tulip trees, sycamores, crab