"Autumn is Upon Us"

The leaves are dropping, and the weather can't decide if it wants to be hot, cool, moderately warm, or positively stuffy. Cool breezes filter through the fields and meadows, coaxing the crisp, browning leaves from their branches.

The ground cover in some areas has died, leaving bare patches of earth until spring comes again. Flocks of birds flutter and settle and gather in great numbers, preparing for their yearly migration.

Webworms have mummified trees across the Ozarks, shrouding the once proud sentinels in ghostly cloaks of webs. The fuzzy "worms" swarm the fences and homes and rain barrels and gardens. They huddle on doorsteps and crawl across the threshold to look for new places to conquer.

Sunlight slants differently now, its light seeming a little whiter, the sky a little less blue. It takes longer for our burning orb to chase away the thick mist that huddles over the meadows in the early morning. The white mist clouds linger like residual spirits, unsure whether to stay or cross over to the next place.

Soon, the black walnuts will fall, and harvest will begin. And the leaves will turn gold and red and apricot and caramel and burgundy. The bright orange pumpkins and pale cornstalks will dot the landscape, and the smells of earth and walnut hulls and mold and baking bread will fill the countryside. 

Autumn, my friends, is here.