The sun is shining in a clear blue sky; the heavy gray of yesterday is gone. The red dogwood leaves flutter in a light breeze–most of the bright berries have already been eaten by birds, and I can easily see how soon the branches will be bare. Random small twigs and branches lie beneath the maple, shaken loose by the recent rains, mixing with leaves that wait to be mulched into the green grass with the next mowing. Across the street, one maple is starting to turn, still green at its core, but yellow, gold, and red on its edges, as if it’s bursting into flames. The hostas in the front bed have gone to seed. The sedum has darkened from dusty pink to a burgundy shade, a nice contrast with its pulpy leaves.
Autumn is definitely settling in, here in eastern Pennsylvania. I don’t smell woodsmoke in the evenings yet, but it’s just a matter of time, as is frost coming along to kill off all the annuals. (If it happened this week and got rid of all the goldenrod pollen, I would be ecstatically grateful, just for the record.) We still have a few days heading up to 80 (27 C), where the attic fan kicks in, but the bulk of the days are in the high 60s and low 70s (say 19 to 24 for those of you in other countries).
Stores have fresh-pressed apple cider for sale, and piles of pumpkins surround the corner markets. Neighbors have yards strewn with Halloween decorations, and we even put up some new gel clings to try to deter the berry-drunk birds from plowing into our windows.
I love this time of year, ripe with possibility–yes, my brain runs on school-year status, which makes fall the start of the year and new ventures. My writing always increases, and I manage to turn my hand to needlecrafts, prepping for the gift-giving season ahead.
What are you grateful for today?