Gray Skies, Wet Ground

The summer is gone...

The sky is gray, the drizzle continuous. It seems that only a few short days ago we had this -

The air was warm, the sun was shining, the robins were still tussling in the garden. Oh brave robin red-breast, what is the cause of your strife? The ladies have retreated to the deep wood, the summer is gone, fall is here and your struggles are in vain.

Now the north wind begins to stir, the leaves, though colorful in spots, begin to fall from the trees.

Normally the leaves of our saw-toothed aspen go brown, then fall.
This year they are showing some color. Still they fall so fast.

The fallen leaves litter the dying grass. Winter? Not now, but soon. All too soon.

The Rose of Sharon has dropped its flowers. The last of the red peppers will be harvested soon.

The streets glisten with the much needed rain. The land has been groaning for moisture, not as bad as some places, but many reservoirs are very, very low. This rain, though somewhat depressing, will help restore the fields and forests of my beloved New England.

Big Girl in the rain.
(That's what I call my Honda Element. What, you don't name your vehicle?)

Some people hate these gray days, not I. It's all part and parcel of the changing of the seasons. Those warm fall days where the sun kisses the golden fields and the autumn foliage are so much the sweeter when they follow the gray drizzle of late September.

Besides which, some of the most beautiful poetry in the English language was written about days like this. Savor these days, soon the blast of Winter will be upon us. For now, enjoy the sweet, sweet smell of Autumn, even when it's raining upon these fair hills and valleys.