Autumn is a glorious season, despite its frequent use as a metaphor for approaching death and dying. Nowhere is its invigorating ambience and riotous color more apparent than in the northeastern United States. Even in early September the hot, hazy, humid days of the New England summer are progressively replaced by crystalline days with cool, clear, dry air and azure skies. September 8, 2005, was a case in point. Not a cloud marred the translucent sky from Maine to New Jersey, and within the macadam maze of downtown Boston and the concrete grid of New York City, the temperature was a comfortable seventy-seven degrees Fahrenheit.