Emerging Fall

There is no escaping this reality. Night-time temperatures dip to freezing. The days are noticeably - oh so noticeably - shortened. We enthuse over every day we have that is clear and bright, breezy and inexpressibly lovely. And we mourn the passing of the carefree summer months. Nature always seems to be in a hurry in this northern clime, leaving us a scant few months in which to revel in warmth and full sunshine, in anticipation for the progress of the flora around us.

We anxiously inspect the trees growing around us for signs of fatigue, and some of them do amply demonstrate their willingness to give up their leaves. In some areas of the trails along which we walk in the ravine, already the ground is littered with crisp fallen leaves. A smattering of bright-red maple leaves, but a wholesale release of elm and of ash, in some areas.

Those large oval ash leaves have taken on a light yellow hue and are readying themselves to detach, to fall and meld themselves into the melee of fall-ready surrender. On the forest floor there are now large areas free of the undergrowth that had so latterly crowded one another in contention for space and light. Ferns, those sensitive to colder temperatures, have fallen in on themselves, preparing to be absorbed into the ground.

All the wild apple trees have given up their fruit; small mean, and sometimes small juicy, red apples stipple the underground. Occasionally an apple will land in such a way as to become impaled on the thorn of a hawthorn, sitting there, bright red and ornamental, as in thoughtful preparation for Christmas decoration. The season has encouraged another spurt of fungi in fanciful shapes and colours. Staghorn sumac have submitted to the inevitable in scarlet surrender.

Squirrels busy themselves, selecting delicacies to hoard over winter while they pretend to hibernate. Dragonflies flit about, brilliant in their sun-brightened delicate forms, unconcerned as yet by the coolness of the temperature, the wind rustling the leaves above, persuading them to take leave of their summer-time perch.

We amble along, in quiet commune with all that surrounds us, savouring every moment of the time yet left before the full onslaught of winter; the connective balance of moderation between fall and the icy, snow-laden time to come.