Preview of October's coming attractions #phenology

Another cloudy, humid (110%?), dreary September day, the last day of the month. Tomorrow begins October. In A Sand County Almanac, Aldo Leopold writes October is the time of tamaracks turning gold, ruffed grouse hunting and the "red lanterns" of blackberry leaves. If you haven't read this chapter in "Sand County," recently or ever, please do so. Leopold captures the essence of Octobers to be dreamed of in our North Country.

ruffed grouse on North Woods road

Photo by J. Harrington

My Minnesota Weatherguide Calendar notes that the average date of first frost for the Twin Cities is October 8, milkweeds should soon begin shedding their seeds, and, by month's end, black bears in the Northwoods should have headed for their dens. In our slightly more temperate area, we hold off on hanging suet feeders until some time in November, lest it become an attractive nuisance. (Once we've had our first frost, if we get another warm spell, we qualify for Indian Summer.) Come Halloween, trees will have shed many of their colorful leaves, many oaks excepted, and the woods will have a more open look and feel. Songbird migrations peak later in the month for many species.

maple leaf colors peak during October, leaf fall by month's end

Photo by J. Harrington

Although we won't be able to see it, October is also when lakes turn over. The full "Hunter's" moon or "Falling Leaves" moon will occur on October 13th. Toward month's end, the Gaelic festival of Samhain carries us through the transition from October to November. Do you remember the Halloween Blizzard of 1991. That may have been the most memorable change from October to November that ever occurred in Minnesota.

So, now that we've covered the preview of some of the upcoming events, it's time to wish September farewell and say "until we meet again."

September Midnight

By Sara Teasdale

Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer, 

Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing, 

Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects, 

Ceaseless, insistent. 

The grasshopper’s horn, and far-off, high in the maples, 

The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence 

Under a moon waning and worn, broken, 

Tired with summer. 

Let me remember you, voices of little insects, 

Weeds in the moonlight, fields that are tangled with asters, 

Let me remember, soon will the winter be on us, 

Snow-hushed and heavy. 

Over my soul murmur your mute benediction, 

While I gaze, O fields that rest after harvest, 

As those who part look long in the eyes they lean to, 

Lest they forget them.

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