A wake-up thunderstorm in the morning heralded what seems like the first real autumn weekend. In the dark, lay in bed listening to the faint, soothing drumming of rain dripping into the drainpipe.

There’s a something in the air—a sadness, a coolness, a calmness. . .a somethingness. Clearly, what needs to happen is, Maud calls, dinner plans are made, and then it all falls into place: Django Reinhardt on the CD player; lamb shanks on the stove simmering in cinnamon and wine; a salad of butter lettuce, tomatoes, and orange peppers chilling in the fridge. We will watch “Ghostbusters,” and then we will watch “Ghostbusters 2.” There’s food enough for all; just ring the doorbell when you get here.