The trail crunched under my boots. The maples, in particular, are shedding their amber, garnet, and topaz leaves. Occasionally the sun slid out to highlight the night’s gift–the first crystals of fall. Frosted, marsh grasses and shrubs glistened, a beautiful reminder of winter’s approach.
The morning’s light builds heat in the goldenrod field, a thicket of last year’s woody stems and this year’s giant St. John’s wort, morning glory, and lanced leaf goldenrod flowers. A Widow Skimmer extends his wings, warming his night-chilled blood. Soon he will bob and weave his way onward.