soon it will all smell like fall

the farmer's market is still full of tomatoes and obnoxiously-large zucchini. but the green beans are long gone, and the cucumbers harder to find.
and soon all the cantaloupe, with a perfume slightly rotten, which permeates the outdoor market, will be replaced by pumpkins.
right before the sun goes down, the cicada songs burst overhead. the insect hum so loud, you have to raise your voice to be heard, when talking with a neighbor on the sidewalk.

read this in Updike's "Marry Me" last night,
"She was still in the kitchen when he came in the back door; the cry of cicadas, the dry football smell of summer's end, followed him in."