Rick Koster offers weekly lists of ideas, notions and things that must be seen to be believed.

John Keats described fall as a friend of the sun, "Conspiring with him how to load and bless / With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run." Dude could flat-out spin the words, couldn't he? Yes, it's the best season, and we welcome it with arms spread wide like a harvest scarecrow. One problem, though, with fall comes school buses, which not only stop frequently but seem to multiply like autumn hares!

I don't blame the buses or drivers or, for that matter, the school district. The problem seems to be with those kids and parents for whom the buses are thought to be personal chariots with hired chauffeurs - and any thoughts of punctuality or consideration for others are relegated to the trash heap of the mind. These folks are a small minority but, boy, can they clog up the proceedings. Three recurring irritants:

1. The Sweet Child boards the bus and Proud Parent stands in front of the vehicle, waving and maintaining umbilical eye contact for as long as possible.

2. The arrival of the bus in front of the house is the actual signal to a) start breakfast, b) dress the Sweet Child or c) both.

3. The Sweet Child, splendidly virtuosic on his or her hand-held device, ignores the just-arrived bus and, while the world waits and suffers, stands on the corner, eyes glued to the screen of the iPhone, and the great shroud of the sea rolls on as it had 5,000 years ago.