In the deep fall..

Song for Autumn

In the deep fall

don’t you imagine the leaves think how

comfortable it will be to touch

the earth instead of the

nothingness of air and the endless

freshets of wind? And don’t you think

the trees themselves, especially those with mossy,

warm caves, begin to think

of the birds that will come — six, a dozen — to sleep

inside their bodies? And don’t you hear

the goldenrod whispering goodbye,

the everlasting being crowned with the first

tuffets of snow? The pond

vanishes, and the white field over which

the fox runs so quickly brings out

its blue shadows. And the wind pumps its

bellows. And at evening especially,

the piled firewood shifts a little,

longing to be on its way.

Mary Oliver

This week the Virginia Creeper began blushing scarlet and crimson...and the sedum heads continued deepening to a lovely russet tone.
Grape leaves quietly withered, yellow and brown.. before falling dry and crunchy to the earth below.
Even so, there are still some bright spots in the garden to enjoy..dark-eyed pansies and sunny calendula and the heady-perfumed bush of snow white Muraya.. which has become the chosen kingdom of the honey-bees for now.
And the last pink head of hydrangea..holding on for dear life..so delicate but taking an admirably tough stand against the inevitable!
Season is changing more noticeably...we have pulled the feather quilt up on the bed and set a woodpile by the fire. Tonight the wind is rattling windows and tomorrow...snow is coming.