One night this week, autumn arrived, and this time I think it's for good. The days are cool, the air is crisp and I'm already thinking about all the pairs of cute tights, knee socks and leg warmers I'm going to buy this year while I still have the chance.

When classes started up again in August, I asked one of my classes what words they think of when they hear "summer." The most common: fireworks, yukata, BBQ, watermelon, wind bells, fans and shaved ice. And even though many of those things are part of summer in the U.S. too, there seems to be something particularly and pleasingly Japanese about this list.

I'm happy, then, that my last weekend before the weather turned unrelentingly autumnal was spent next to the blue waters of the Neo River, eating BBQ and river-chilled watermelon and lighting fireworks until the lighter ran out of fluid and it was time to leave. (Attempts to run a heated car cigarette lighter across the parking lot in order to ignite the remaining fireworks proved useless.)

I can't describe to you in words why eating a watermelon in Japan is different from eating one in California or why I will always have a crinkly feeling of nostalgia when I think about lighting sparklers on a dark night with a group of friends, but there you are. Today I got an email from a very nice reader (hi, Linda!) who spent six months in Japan and says she sometimes wants to scream at me through the computer, "You will miss it!" But she doesn't have to worry; I already know it. And in some ways, I already do.