This young fellow and his doe routinely frequent the yard.
She comes from the cover on the other side of the stone fence into the open of the backyard.
All the while walking slowly, she dips her head, feigns sampling the last of green grass as alert ears and wary eyes scan for danger.
If all clear, he’ll appear from somewhere behind her.
“That’s the storm that will change the season.” mother would say in autumn during a particularly blustery storm. Sure enough, the air would soon change from fatigued autumn to decidedly winter.
Earlier today while on the phone, I glanced behind the curtain only to see a big Tom and more than a dozen hens crossing the yard from north to south.
They encountered the stone fence, and just as one always wonders why a chicken crossed the road, I wondered why the turkeys crossed the fence.
As nearly the rest of leaves have blown off after frosts and stern winds, this birch makes itself known contrasting with it’s too close hemlock neighbor.
From the top of Elk Mountain, near gaudy reds and yellows pour through the neighborhood.
A community of larch splashes gold near neighbor pines.
Nearly all green not long ago, soon to be pine punctuated silver white, now, this.
Late afternoon illuminates a favorite hill top in early Autumn splendor.
Autumn green fades, pastel sky smiles over soon to blaze hills.
Autumns first week pours clouds into valleys.
Goldenrod prominents west yard hill in prosperous gold.
Sun and Saturn direct effect gorgeous illumination.
Drawn into unfamiliar abundance, trembling momentum radiates.
Yellow, yellow everywhere. Some yellow the shades of old paper left in sun, fading, reflecting nearing the end of an age.
Other yellow, Golden Rod, Sun Chokes just as brilliant and bright as the sun itself.