Posts Tagged ‘fall’
Watching Leaves
Friday morning, Asher got a little ahead of us into the woods on our walk. My eye caught sight of something dark with a huge wingspan moving through the trees, most likely in response to the dog’s presence. It was dramatically large, but I couldn’t see anything identifying beyond a total blackness.
Our first impressions were of an eagle or owl, based on the spread of those wings. When it paused briefly on a mid-height branch, it didn’t bring its wings in, giving the impression of possible injury and continuing to strike awe for how big it was to be flying among all our trees. Then it quickly flew away and up into other trees until I couldn’t find it anymore.
We arrived at the barn as the sun was beginning to be visible through the tree branches on our eastern horizon. The temperature had dropped well below freezing overnight, and the frost was significant over the grass. There wasn’t a hint of any air moving.
While I was taking care of groundskeeping in the paddocks, it suddenly sounded like raindrops were falling. I looked up to discover the warm sunshine was bathing the trees, and the sound was coming from scores of leaves letting go and falling, knocking others loose on the way down.
It was mesmerizing. I stared for the longest time without moving as the show played out. The number of leaves breaking loose from branches all at the same time, without the slightest breeze wiggling them free, was mind-blowing.
They just kept breaking away and dropping straight down, making the most interesting chorus of light tapping.
I assume the striking scene was a result of the difference between being frozen overnight and then suddenly warming up in the direct sunlight. As the minutes passed, the spectacle of the falling leaves faded, presumably as the temperature variation in the trees equalized over time.
Asher and I spent much of the day simply watching the beauty of the landscapes around us.
Cyndie took a picture of us sitting on the spot we’ve turned into a lookout at the top of the first rise of the driveway from the road.
I’d been watching the horses make their way lazily from the large paddock out to graze in the hay field.
There was a thin crust of ice on Paddock Lake before the sun appeared high enough to melt it. We have plenty of grass that could be mowed once more, but by the time it gets dry, my motivation is nowhere to be found. Instead, I watched from our perch on the hill as our neighbor mowed his.
If I never get around to it before winter arrives, it won’t be a catastrophe. Somebody seems to be loosening his standards around here. Maybe it’s a result of my recent thinking about what this place would look like if we did nothing to care for it.
Fooling around could have me eventually finding out.
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Officially Autumn
At approximately 1:19 p.m. CDT today, the sun crosses the celestial equator, marking the autumnal equinox for the Northern Hemisphere. Shorter days and longer nights become the reality around here for the next three months. In addition to the noticeable change in sunrise and sunset times, we are finding that the hummingbirds are becoming scarce, and box elder bugs are appearing in giant globs in spots of warm sunlight.
Yesterday, we found a batch of ten or fifteen Monarch Butterflies hanging around in our north loop field.
Only one of which I was able to fit in the frame of this photo. Might they be amassing before a migratory journey?
Some of our trees are actually beginning to show a little color. Fall is officially here. Have they broken out the pumpkin spice yet? Oh, yeah. That happened in August. Well, now I suppose Christmas-themed advertising will be starting soon, if it hasn’t already. We don’t get much exposure to ads these days.
I look forward to discovering how soon the grass will stop growing for the season. In the good old days, I was able to put away lawn mowers when fall arrived. Now, mowing in October is no longer an unlikely occurrence.
Time will tell. Today, I have a lot of grass that needs cutting. I’ll wave goodbye toward the sun as the afternoon hour of the equinox blows past.
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Serious Frost
There have been a handful of mornings recently when there was a hint of frost on blades of grass in low areas, but yesterday morning, we stepped out to find a serious frost on everything. If there is any sense to be found in this world, this should finally mark the end of our growing season.
The air was dead calm, and I got the impression the cold snap had triggered trees to jettison leaves in a spectacular cascade. They were falling like raindrops and sounded a bit like them, too.
I eventually pulled out the mower to (hopefully) make the last grass cut down by the road and along our driveway.
Since it has been so dry for many weeks, I’d not bothered to cut several areas where most of the grass had gone dormant. However, in that amount of time, the swaths where the grass was growing got pretty tall. It feels good to now have it all cleaned up and ready for winter.
It was a day or two later than probably should have been done, but I also hauled the compressor over to blow out the buried water line that runs from the house down to the labyrinth. As long as I was taking care of winterizing chores, I pulled the ATV out from the back of the garage and parked the riding mower in its place.
The Grizzly is now parked front and center and ready to have the plow blade mounted for when it will be needed.
Of course, having done all this because of that heavy overnight frost, now the next six days are forecast to be in the 60s to mid-70s(F) for highs and the 50s for lows.
I just hope another warm spell won’t be enough to inspire grass blades to have one more growth spurt.
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Middle October
You wouldn’t know by looking, but November is just a couple of weeks away. Terror movies, scary costumes, and campaign lawn signs will only intensify between now and then, but soon, it will all be behind us.
For much of my life, I have practiced the fine art of ignoring most of the crafty ways marketing whizzes attempt to grab my attention. When it comes to several house-sized monstrosities erected in and around River Falls with the name of a felonious candidate, I feel a significant dose of smugness in successfully averting my gaze to avoid looking at them every time I drive past.
Conversely, I take great pleasure in rereading the tiny little sign in one farmyard near our home that says simply, “HATE WILL NOT MAKE US GREAT.”
I see what I want to see.
I’m afraid that by the time November arrives, we won’t have any trees with leaves left in them. They are falling fast and furious now, even though some leaves are still pretty green.
I’m a little sad about how many of the leaves have just turned cardboard-brown before dropping to the ground.
One thing about the warm weather that we have enjoyed lately is having our bedroom window open to hear the hoots of our resident owls reverberating through the forest.
We’ve also noticed some instances where wailing sirens from emergency vehicles in the distance have triggered packs of coyotes to respond in kind.
I think the dwindling foliage is leading to sounds carrying further.
It sounds like fall. I think I can even hear the frost forming on the pumpkins.
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Not Instantaneous
When we emerged from the front door this morning, there was a layer of ice on Asher’s water bowl on the steps. Today is the first time this fall that we walked out to sub-freezing air temperatures. Ironically, there was no frost on the grass. The recent rain has saturated the ground which aids in transferring the residual warmth remaining in the earth from summer.
There is no instantaneous point during the change of seasons that entirely switches things over from one to the other. This morning both Cyndie and I found ourselves digging for outerwear –and in Cyndie’s case, a long underwear top– from the closet that we haven’t used in probably 6 months.
Passing snow showers are forecast for the afternoon.
The transition to the frozen season happens in fits and starts. Below freezing at night, above freezing during the day. When several consecutive daytime high temperatures stay below freezing, the transition has progressed to a new level and all of our senses tell us fall is over and winter is on the prowl.
The loss of tree leaves also happens gradually. Some trees started shedding leaves in the second half of August. Fall colors began to burst in the latter half of September. Now, as we approach the end of October, the transition to bare branches is slowly underway.
When tree leaves fall straight down to paint a large circular swath of the grass beneath a tree, it creates a visual spectacle of exclamation that winter is nigh.
As of this morning, my knit stocking cap has replaced all my summer hats.
The leaves will continue to fall.
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Leaves Leaving
Leaves were falling, just like embers
In colors red and gold, they set us on fire
Killing the Blues by Rowland Salley
I went after a little more late-season lawn mowing yesterday afternoon and it turned our backyard striped.
That is what happens when you mow over the leaves instead of raking them up first.
The leaves have been leaving the trees in an increasing amount with each passing day.
It creates a carpet of leaves beneath the trees that produce one of my favorite forest looks.
Cyndie’s prized “door table” under the trees becomes a mystical decoration in a picturesque nook where romping squirrels make so much noise it sounds like a deer must be running through.
Falling leaves. You know what that means?
Falling flakes won’t likely be very far behind.
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Gentle Reminder
This year’s initiation to snow cover came gently and during the weekend, causing minimal impact to our routine. We aren’t sure about the history of our horses’ experience with snow but there was no indication they were the least bit disturbed by the arrival of whiteness.
Their greater concern of late is the frequent report of rifles reverberating in the valley. In the days leading up to the actual 9-day deer hunting season, there are a lot more gunshots heard than the few bursts at dusk and dawn when the season is underway. My guess is early gunshots are a result of shooters aligning their scopes and firing their weapons in rehearsal for the real thing, based on a comment I heard from someone years ago.
Not being a hunter myself, I just rely on what others have told me.
After a single day, the snow is rapidly disappearing.
I’ll take that as a reminder that the transition of seasons doesn’t always happen in an instant. This year we have been spared one of those sudden blast storms with deep snow that ends up lasting the entire winter. I’m lookin’ at you, 1991 Halloween Blizzard.
Maybe I’m just getting old, but I’m perfectly okay with a gentle reminder when season-long snowfall is nigh.
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Last Last
Honestly, even if the grass continues to grow, I refuse to mow in November. Yesterday will be the last “last time” that I mow this season. I’ve already mowed for what I hoped was the last time this fall three other times. Admittedly, the first “last time” was hopeful thinking that didn’t pan out. The rest could’ve/should’ve been the end of growing blades but warm sunshine and some rain have kept the grass happy and active.
Yesterday, I almost wasn’t able to finish what I started. Just after I got done cutting the front yard and was working my way around to the back, the mower shut down on me. I wondered if it was making a statement about also wanting to be done for the season. It was certainly the coldest air temperature I’ve been out mowing in –mid 40s(F)– so I wouldn’t blame the tractor for not liking it.
Turned out that it was a fuse that didn’t want to be forced to work on Halloween.
Now it’s November and that means deer hunting season is near. Already, the sound of gunshots is an almost daily experience as neighboring farmers are adjusting their sights and perfecting their technique in preparation for the big day. Delilah is ferocious about wanting to defend us from the sound of a rifle “carrrrack!” She rushes toward the sound until her leash abruptly hits its limit, barking all the way.
Then she barks some more. As in, over and over again, ad nauseam. Poor girl almost barked herself hoarse yesterday.
With the majority of our trees now void of their leaves, the sound of gunshots travels from miles around us, so it’s not just the next-door neighbors we are hearing from.
At least Delilah quieted down enough while on a walk that we were able to sneak up on a flock of turkeys that were hanging out in our field near the road. They initially thought about running away and then took to the air toward an unplanted field to our north, offering a gorgeous display of the emergency version of wild turkey flight.
The turkeys were probably loving that I had cut the grass short down by the road.
In case they are wondering, that’s the last “last time” I’m going to do that this year.
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Different Greens
As the tree leaves lose their green color, different greens become much more apparent. Moss growth that has been around all along suddenly stands out much more vividly.
The carpet covering the forest floor that we have been walking upon all summer with little notice now resonates its emerald hue.
It will soon be our chance to spot the lingering green leaves of the invasive common buckthorn that I hunt and remove this time of year in an effort to avoid it overtaking more desirable native growth. The buckthorn leaves stay green longer than most of the other trees and undergrowth, making it relatively easy to find during walks around the property.
That is a different green we’d rather not have around, except for maybe an intentional hedge that is maintained with regular trimming. There are places along our property border where I might be inclined to let the buckthorn grow into a natural wall.
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Less Color
Not every plant bursts with color this time of year, but the changes still look cool.
Close to the forest floor, Cyndie snapped this shot of leaves with an eye-catching fade from green to an absence of color.
Walking through the woods yesterday we marveled over the carpet of leaves that are a perfectly distributed parquet of colors in certain sections. Under a few other trees, it’s one dominating color where all the leaves of individual trees dropped in a short span of time.
It’s interesting how they will soon all turn brown and not long after that, the ground will be covered with white.
Less color, indeed.
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Relative Something 