In Other Words...

Walking trails made of sand, dry from the summer sun, repel the autumn rains. Flows of sand gush downward, followed by streams of orange cedar leaves carving diminutive alluvial fans over the Kentucky rye grass.

Storms have replenished the forest floor to the colour orange. Perhaps a fall colour associated with deciduous trees of the Maritimes, yet it is the colour of red cedar, a conifer. Leaves change with the seasons. Not all, some. An earthy hue so comforting, so warm, it wraps a blanket of calm to all that care to see. Trees absorb a dark tone on their easterly side. Drenched, yet a satisfied thirst quenched from the summer past. Surprisingly, the humid air is warm for this season. The bird bath blackens with algae, birds don't care. Mushrooms blossom in secret places, and only the slugs have knowledge of their whereabouts. Big leaf maple trees are at the outset of autumn, leaves of saffron in colour and fragile. It is my favourite season. In other words;


'Iv'e gotta lotta sweepin' and raken' to do and it's time to scrub the bird bath again.'