The left-over crab apples are about the only red left in the forest these days. The maples have dropped their glorious colours to the forest floor.
Now is the time that the tamaracks come marching to the footlights, shimmering in gold, gilding the wetlands.
The hills no longer draw out the breath, stopping the eye,
now we look for smaller wonders as the nights close in
Soft rain makes patterns on the ponds, the sedges, rushes and lily pads form abstract art, muted, understated.
Some of the wildflowers never drop their blossoms, drying them instead into statements in the gloom.
And the beech, well, while the older trees shed their leaves, the younger ones hold them all the winter through. We will miss these trees, when the beech blight comes closer. All of us, we will miss them. They provide mast for the deer, bears, turkeys, chipmunks and squirrels. Once in their multitudes they could feed a billion passenger pigeons passing through... but the pigeons are long gone. And we fear the beech are wavering, unsteady in our beloved forest.
Rain changes the colours. Even the lake takes off its sheen of blue, and turns to pewter.
The raspberry bushes cling to a range of colours. They will hang on through the early snows.
And the balsam, with their flat needles, they will hold onto their glorious greens all the year long, providing shelter to the chickadees.
Had it not been for the drizzle, could we ever have seen this? The beauty of the raindrops around the floating leaves. It's all out there, you just have to go. And look.
And not just look at the weather through a window.
After all, we have the clothing to let us confront the elements here and stay comfortable... As Columbia clothing's motto says, "Get Out. And Stay Out."
And really, you wouldn't want to miss this, would you?