A few days ago, the pooches and I photographed our walk in the woods.
It was gorgeous – mid-50s – crisp, but warmer air – and the foliage was at it’s peak.
Today, we set out with the sun in the sky, it was 45F degrees, and there was a definite crisp to the air. It actually wore a hat and gloves with my coat since there was also a steady breeze.
We quickly noticed that we’re on the waning side of that peak foliage we saw just days ago. The difference between today and a few days ago was noticeable.
There were far more leaves on the ground, and the color was starting to fade from the deep, rich glory of a few days ago.
There was still some beautiful pockets of color:
And there were places that oddly didn’t even look like Fall had arrived.
We found some nifty curiosities. I’m no mushroom hunter, and gonna throw this out there – perhaps you’d be in for one Hell of a night if you ate these.
Mostly, we realized what every northern New Englander realizes long before the official end of Fall… our Fall is coming to a quick close. We’re entering into what I call stick season – the bare trees that sway in the wind that has a wicked bite to it. Even as we walked the clouds moved in and the air temperature went from crisp to downright chilled.
This will be a similar sky we have for many months to come.
It is inevitable. Winter is coming.
But in the meantime, we shall continue to enjoy the beauty of our daily walks.
And, as always, Stinky Pete, aka Dixie, is ever ready to dash into the woods after some pesky squirrel.
When we arrived back home, we salvaged the final heirloom tomatoes from our measly harvest this summer.