The fallen leaves turn an invisible change into something somebody must sweep.

Seasons happen quietly until they land on a path. The change was underway for weeks in the light and the temperature, unnoticed by most people, and then it becomes a physical job somebody has to do with a brush on a Saturday morning. Large slow shifts usually reach us as small concrete tasks. That is often the moment they get noticed at all.

When an ordinary chore appears, ask what larger change put it there. If a task keeps returning, the change is still going on. Sweeping is a fair way to meet a season.