This is the first night in weeks that I've heard no crickets. The other insects, with their shrill, sustained buzz are still active, but the last cricket has fallen silent. The cool air is slightly hazy and damp. The waxing moon casts pale light, revealing the empty street. More oak leaves have fallen and now crunch underfoot as I walk along the driveway. The sounds of one season give way to those of another. I say goodbye to the crickets.