Fall has, er, sprung

After a warm October and some absolutely miserable days of dreary clouds and rain, the trees finally decided it was time to pack in the canopies, show their true colors, and shed. For a few days, the view outside our upstairs windows was wild with red and orange and even some stubborn green. A couple of cloudless days added a dash of blue.

The sights were so inspiring I pulled up the blinds, put away a bevy of boxes, and made the office a bit more livable just so I could spend some time sitting in a chair looking over the trees. The kitties seemed to think the colors were pretty cool too and joined me in appreciating God's painting. Of course, they couldn't bear to be in the same window, so Tigger took up a post looking North, and Emma settled on to the West-facing sill.

Now, a few days later, we've had some rain, and this morning we were buffeted with >40mph winds, so many of the trees have lost most of their leaves. There are still a few stubborn clumps that won't admit that winter's on its way, but I imagine that by the end of the week they'll be gone too. I expect the groups of kids offering to rake leaves for a few bucks will start making the rounds, and I'll have to start getting serious about giving the lawn its final cut. When we were in Georgia, I complained that I missed the turning of the seasons. Sure we had hot summer and a lengthy spring; fall was even somewhat lengthy--although living in a pine forest didn't offer many colorful views. But there was always something missing. The lawn was always green--well, brownish green--and it never got wintery cold. In a month or two, I'll be looking out my office windows at pure white yards bisected by steel gray roads backed with a greyish sky. The trees will be barren. And it will be that whitening death that will make the wild resurrection of spring so sweet.