Sayonara, summer.

Without so much as a goodbye kiss, she has silently exited, much like my preferred method of leaving a party.

Did you feel her blow past on her way to the other side of the world? Did you offer up your own farewell to another summer’s hopes and dreams?

I still didn’t convince my strawberry plants to produce berries, wake myself to watch the Perseid meteor showers, or have that summer romance I was promised as a teen reading Sweet Valley High books. But I am walking into fall with a few insights.

• Decomposition is real: Twas the season for finding dead animals in my backyard. One male house finch and one squirrel, the former of which was still soft and warm when I found him. I couldn’t bear to just toss him in the trash, so inside the house he came, where I placed his little body on a dishcloth next to my laptop on the kitchen table. I stroked his soft feathers and the crown of his head for the next few days, unclear why I felt such an attachment to him. I couldn’t decide what to do with his little body until Mother Nature made the decision for me. I woke one morning, noticed some white maggots crawling on the dishcloth and promptly freaked out.

I had briefly considered decomposition, but I’m no coroner. For your edification, it takes a little less than a week for the worms of death to appear, just in case you, too, decide to bring a dead animal into your home. And also? Where there is one maggot, there are a few dozen. So I spent a Sunday morning frantically hunting down and eliminating maggots, which move surprisingly quickly and efficiently. I n the end, I wound up wrapping the finch and putting him in the trash. RIP.

This was not a lesson I needed to learn twice. When the dead squirrel appeared in the yard a few weeks later, I put him in a bag in the shed. I contemplated digging a burial site, but put him in the trash a couple of days later. RIP you little lover of nuts and unintentional planter of trees.

• A change of heart is possible: After much thought over the years, I’ve landed on an answer — humans can change. Sometimes it takes a ton of work, and you have to want to do the work, not have it forced upon you, but sometimes change slips in so softly, like the beautiful light of late August, that you barely even notice.

This was the summer I had a change of heart about summer. It’s pretty nice, who knew? The warmth, the fecundity, the not needing 12 layers of clothing. I used to count down the days until the fall equinox, but this summer was a gentle, little dream and I look forward to the next one. It’s never too late for a change of heart, about anything.

• Do it for the plot: Those youth, always coming up with pithy sayings. As it turns out, doing it for the plot can add layers of richness to your life, like a sweet and salty Peanut Buster Parfait. Trying to decide between things? Or trying to decide to do even one thing, like approach the cutie in the cereal aisle or plan a weekend trip or try a new restaurant? Consider which option will add to the ever unspooling novel or film of your life. What will make a memory or provide an anecdote when someone asks what you’ve been up to lately? Instead of saying, “I’m all caught up on ‘Love Island,’” you’ll have a memory and some wisdom to share, something you won’t earn if you’re inside eating Oreos and playing Mario Kart all weekend.

• Make more memories: My new intention is to create a tapestry of memories to reflect on until the day I make my last one. And that won’t happen if I do the same old, same old routine every day. I create memories when I do something new, and no memories when I don’t break my routine. This isn’t easy for someone who is wholeheartedly a creature of habit. But I’m working to loosen my grip (remember, humans can change). I’ve started taking birthday trips and doing new activities or visiting new places on holidays. I get memories and a way to distinguish the years. Otherwise everything blurs together.

• Score a drug-free buzz: Sometimes life is a slog. You slump along, wondering why your joie de vivre has forsaken you. You wonder if this is how it’s always going to be? The same old days, the same old life, forever and ever, amen. This is the moment you need to advocate for yourself to yourself. You must sit down and have a stern chat, self to self, about how to inject newness into your life. When we experience something new or unexpected we get a buzz. Life is again worth setting an alarm for in the morning. This doesn’t have to be difficult. Taking a trip, even a short daytrip, to a new location can change your energy, as can an art class, hiking a new trail, or using YouTube to learn how to dance the bachata or play the harmonica.

• Seek out and savor awe: It’s hard to feel irritated or glum in the presence of awe, which I define as something that startles you, stops you and eliminates your mind chatter so you can think of nothing else but the awesome thing. Many of us find awe in observing a sunrise or sunset. Or a star and planet-studded night sky away from light pollution. I find awe while gazing at the ocean or in the presence of wild animals, like spotting a great horned owl or a Cooper’s hawk on a low branch near a trail, so close I can stand and look in its eyes. Birth or watching a baby being birthed or meeting a fresh human is filled with awe, as is being with someone in the last moments of their life. Listening to beautiful music, seeing a great work of art, watching a masterful cast perform, or reading a poem that slices straight to your insides. All can cloak you in awe.