A mutter of distant thunder agitates the small, still hour and penetrates a sleeper’s dream.</p><p>The orange cat stirs on the pillow between us. The Brittany, Cyrus, and Buddy, the beagle, shake their jingling collars.</p><p>It is unnecessary to look at the bedside clock to know that it is 6 a.m. or, at very latest, 6:15. Outside the window there’s not a hint of light, and the room still is full of night.</p><p>But the dogs, more dependable than any alarm, have declared the day begun.</p><p>This time of year has always been, and always will be, my favorite season. The only complaint I have is the darkness of our morning risings. All the rest of autumn I find entirely faultless.</p><p>As the day’s first coffee brews and the world outside begins to brighten, the lawns I see through the window are green as May. The flowers in my wife’s garden make a splash of color against that background.</p><p>Ours is a neighborhood of old houses. The old trees that shade them have not yet begun to turn, but with the abundant moisture of this year we can anticipate a spectacle of crimson and gold that lies ahead. </p><p>When I go out to fetch the newspaper, I’m met by a wind that is strong and sharp, edged with just a hint of the winter to come.</p><p>It brings back anew the excitement of days spent tromping frosty meadows with good dogs and good friends — hunting, yes, but more than that. Laying in a store of memories against later, harder times.</p><p> A month from now, with any luck, we’ll be doing that again.</p><p> There are some people — my mother was one — who find autumn depressing. It evokes in them, I think, a sense of endings and of losses.</p><p> I’m spared that. For me it’s a time of optimism and excitement, a time when all seems possible.</p><p> I believe that this country will find its way back from the economic distress into which cupidity and carelessness propelled it.</p><p> I believe that the qualified young will again be able to look to futures of stable and productive employment.</p><p> I believe that home ownership will once more be a widely achievable dream, not a fatal trap for the unwary.</p><p> I believe that, in the quarreling over health care reform, better natures will yet prevail and make coverage available for all.</p><p> I’m determined to believe that some way can be found, with honor, to end the expenditure of young lives in wars where the progress is elusive and “victory” impossible to define.</p><p> In a more personal matter, I believe that the public’s need for news in depth, instead of sound bites, will enable print journalism not merely to survive but to flourish again. </p><p> And with any luck at all, I believe — or <em>hope</em><em>, </em>at any rate — that the end of daylight-saving time on Nov. 1 will recalibrate from 6 a.m. to 7 a.m. the bird dog’s and the beagle’s notions as to the proper hour for rising.