October 2016 will be but a footnote in a year I'm ready to leave behind. I allowed my favorite month to pass by with but a few fleeting glances at its glory.
There will be no orange sparrows for me this year as I find myself greeting the senescence of October's end.
Nature's brilliant reds and orange are becoming muted by a palette of brown and ochre.
I missed the brilliance of this prairie this year, this place that has become less familiar. I leave pieces of me behind with every stolen visit. Buried. Soon to be forgotten.
I found hints of Nature's earlier majesty in the sparse lingering blooms of Guara biennis
...and another whose name escaped me even though the reflections of its leaves run deep within my memory.
The remains of coneflower pierced the golden grass, beckoning my attention. The sky was a dismal gray and the air blew a chill, foreshadowing colder months ahead.
The old mother's hand of this bare oak wisely pointed me toward the exit, suggesting it was time for me to leave.
There will be no orange sparrows for me this year as I find myself greeting the senescence of October's end.
Nature's brilliant reds and orange are becoming muted by a palette of brown and ochre.
I found hints of Nature's earlier majesty in the sparse lingering blooms of Guara biennis
...and another whose name escaped me even though the reflections of its leaves run deep within my memory.
The remains of coneflower pierced the golden grass, beckoning my attention. The sky was a dismal gray and the air blew a chill, foreshadowing colder months ahead.
The old mother's hand of this bare oak wisely pointed me toward the exit, suggesting it was time for me to leave.
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