Even if I couldn't read the calendar, dwindling daylight and cooler temperatures would tell me that fall has brought its chill to Southeast Missouri.

I grew up in Chaffee just at the edge of the Delta region of the Mississippi, just north of that section of Southern Missouri we affectionately call he Bootheel. According to legend, that aberration is there because some big plantation-owner petitioned the U.S. territorial government when Missouri became a state, saying he wanted his land to be included in Missouri since Arkansas weather had never agreed with him.

A sure sign of fall in the Delta is the high flying "V" of Canadian geese making their annual migration from northern lakes to the Louisiana wetlands. My uncle was an avid hunter of water fowl, and the fall would find him driving his car with one hand and practicing goose calls with the other. The distant honks from the sky had him anticipating the week he and a cousin would spend each year scouting the backwaters of the Mississippi, looking for the stopover sites of the great Canadians. Hearing him driving down the street with goose calls coming out of the window might seem strange, but "strange" is easily tolerated in small towns where everyone knows everyone.

Over night, the three maple trees in our front yard would seem to morph into a kaleidoscope of color that would capture your eye and leave you wanting to just sit and stare. Too soon, the leaves would fill the yard with enough work for everyone who cared where the leaves fell and felt the need to make big piles and set them afire. Yes, that was long before environmental rules made burning leaves a distant memory.

Finally, the transition from summer to winter was over. I would walk home from school with the collar of my jacket turned up to the north wind and my hands jammed deep into my pockets. The wind would pick up across the fields and toward me would move a white blur of snow slanting on the wind and stinging my face.

Is it any wonder that, today, the snow birds search out warmer climates each year to avoid the coldest parts of the winter. But, where else could you live and experience the four seasons without feeling a need to hibernate for the winter. In Southeast Missouri life is good.

Still, I can remember coming in late from ball practice at the high school with my dog, Rusty, meeting me at the corner of our street. The smell of wood smoke in the air, frost blowing out of my mouth with every breath and the lights of home in the distance where a warm kitchen and supper was waiting. Ahhh, memories.