The cabin&rsquo;s frail plumbing system has been drained in anticipation of a coming freeze. And that small, dear structure, pressed around by the Ozark woods, has settled once more into its seasonal sleep.</p><p>The abandonment, however, is not complete.</p><p>In the night, some weeks ago, I was awakened by the sound of stirring under the floor. At first light the next morning I saw the proof: Leaves had been cleared away from the opening to the crawl space beneath the main room.</p><p>Clearly a lodger has returned.</p><p> Over the years a variety of visitors have sought shelter in that protected place. One year a stray brown dog brought off her litter there. Another year it was a red fox vixen. And, after her, a coyote.</p><p> For two Aprils in succession a gray fox bore five kits under the cabin, undeterred by the heavy-footed, two-legged creatures occupying the space directly above.</p><p> This past spring, however, for whatever reason, she did not come back, and that was a disappointment.</p><p> The identity of the present occupant is not known &mdash; won&rsquo;t be until it shows itself. My hope is that one of those little foxes, grown now, may have been drawn by memory back to its birthing place. Just as I&rsquo;m hoping there&rsquo;ll be another trip or two to the cabin, maybe more, before this year ends.</p><p> So much about autumn in that hill country stirs the senses.</p><p> The depth and richness of the October and November sky. The sharpness of shadow with the changed angle of the light. The clarity with which far sounds &mdash; the bark of a neighbor&rsquo;s dog or the far-off whine of a woodsman&rsquo;s saw &mdash; carry to the ear through a forest gone barren of foliage.</p><p> And that&rsquo;s not even to mention the icy nearness of the stars as one stands outside, jacketless and shivering just a little, before going in to start a fire in the wood stove, as much for its perfume as for the warmth.</p><p> The New York daughter will be coming home to visit in the month ahead. With luck, the nearer daughter will be able to take a bit of time away from her demanding work.</p><p> We&rsquo;ll surely spend some days at the cabin then. It&rsquo;s even possible the unknown lodger under the floor might decide to let itself be seen.</p><p>Meantime, here in the city, there may be more sweet afternoons, a few at least, to sit in the yard with the orange cat, who all but disappears against the carpeting of orange leaves.</p><p>Without question, there are a great many people now &mdash; with so much distress afoot in the land, when the future&rsquo;s so uncertain and the planet is tilting toward the dark &mdash; who must find this season disheartening.</p><p>I understand that. And yet I have to confess, though a little ashamed to say it, that in this place, even at this age, and for reasons that have nothing to do with fairness, autumn is the time when I count my luck.