"We've got to have a fall-guy."

That's what hard-boiled detective Sam Spade says in author Dashiell Hammett's "The Maltese Falcon."

Spade, I'm your man.

My disposition falls forward at this time of the year, and no leaf goes unturned.

Albert Camus said, "Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower."

From the autumnal equinox to the day that we will have to change our clocks next March (why?), I can be seen without a scowl, which is a rarity in the summer, when the dog and I both pant.

When I lived east of Colorado, fall meant that the unbearable humidity had come to an end.

When I lived west of Colorado, fall meant that Arizona was no longer someone's sick joke about the weather.

But even more than weather changes, fall is a great time to look back. On the year, and on my life. And to filter as many negative thoughts as I can about both of them.

Autumn is a quiet time of the year, even quieter than winter, which can howl at you with a tall blizzard whenever it feels like it.

And it's a lot quieter than summer, which gets drunk on fireworks and block parties.

Inside, my home it's different too.

The air conditioning is not running all the time, for one thing.

I like to get out the long-sleeved shirts and sweaters, and to wear long pants again, and not look like a 60-something who wants to look like a 20-something.

I'll give you an idea about my change in temperament.

I made an online appointment to renew my driver's license.

I don't know how you feel about going to the Department of Motor Vehicles, but I would truthfully rather have a root canal (I have had two).

But this time would be different. Correct?

Not really. I was sent to the wrong DMV.

"We don't do renewals by appointment here."

"Has this happened before?"

"All the time."

My choices were to take a number. It looked like my area code.

Or hurry to the other DMV, and take my chances, knowing that I was going to be late.

I decided to take my chances. On the way I thought it over.

Was I going to be pre-autumnal equinox Craig?

I decided against it, and it worked.

An extremely helpful DMV employee took me to the head of the line.

I think if I had gone in there with my summer scowl, things might have been different.

My inclination is to fit in with what Robert Hughes referred to as "The Culture of Complaint." You may have noticed.

I have said over and over that I am not Mother Teresa.

I should point out that I am working with my sixth therapist. For some reason, the other five all moved and didn't leave forwarding addresses.

Anyway, Number Six wants me to work on letting things go, especially things that I can't control, and I can't control anything.

I told her that the minute I walk out the front door, I encounter the unpolished human animal who does not even know how to use a turn signal.

But autumn is on, and I am off of my fault-finding duties.

Mostly.

Craig Marshall Smith is an artist, educator and Highlands Ranch resident. He can be reached at craigmarshallsmith@comcast.net.