There’s a dusting of color, on the four maples, lined up along Route 22 just south of the farm. Deep orange on three and mum red on the tallest.
It feels like Autumn too. The air has a chill in it and the breeze is crisp. Even the crickets and frogs sound softer, dulled by the temperature. The sun is bright without being summer hot.
I feel myself adjusting with the rest of the natural world around me.
Fall brings easier walks in the woods, fewer insects, longer nights, wool socks and a touch of melancholy.