After the wind, the streets are covered in brown pine needles and oak leaves. The cars run over them, and the pulverized dust is blown to the sides of the road, making a soft golden path which crunches slightly under the footsteps of passersby. Already, where oaks overhang the streets, there were paths of crushed acorns, and the weeds in open fields and vacant lots have been dessicated to a shaggy carpet of beige. There is a restful quality to this browning of the landscape, as though everything were settling down for a nap. The days of early fall are very pleasant days.