The Therapy of Autumn

Autumn means the end of summer, of course, and of new things growing and blooming. Interminable winter stretches ahead for those of us in northern regions. Darkening days, cold, wet,  inconvenient weather, dangerous travel over icy roads; this is my mental winter view as the bright green and yellow days fold up forever behind us. I need the color and light and sunshine of fall to remind me that every season has its romance and beauty, and that the terrors of winter are going to have been larger in my imagination than in the reality of the congenial, cuddle-up cozy season that is to follow.

The Road to Winter



Red Sky at Morning
 (You May Click To Enlarge the Above Photos)



Daylight Savings Time is over now, and 6:30 A.M. is 5:30 A.M. I'm glad I was able to go out and enjoy this lovely autumn morning. It will be much colder for the rest of the week, so this is it!



Autumn is here, how I hate to see the summer go

Last night the leaves on the Arizona Mountain Ash next door, and the peach tree in my yard, all fell off. There was no gentle drifting one by one, but a mass exodus that happened as we slept. Yes, they had been turning color, but it did seem rather rash and premature; the act of adolescents in rebellion, aiming for shock. Other trees around them were apparently unconcerned. The apricot in another yard,  flaunting her thick green crown, is hanging over the  fence in a most teasing way, trying to fool me into thinking that there is still more summer left, when I know that fall is well advanced and her time is coming soon, too. All the leaves on the cherry trees, sweet and tart, are clinging to an illusion of life, as are those on  the crabapple trees. The Bradford Pears are not even a little bit yellow yet; will there be more balmy, halcyon days after these first light frosts? I certainly hope so, as there are so many chores to do before the ground freezes and the life is invisible around us.