Mid-September collage

It's the time of year when those who live near deciduous trees watch for green leaves to turn yellow or orange or scarlet or maroon. If there are evergreens mixed in with the deciduous, do you watch for needles to turn golden and then drop? If you haven't, you should. Pine needles are almost as pretty as tamaracks turning golden. As we were planting this year's collection of chrysanthemums, some of the golden pine needles caught my eye. They're just starting to turn.

late September pine needle colors

Photo by J. Harrington

We're also watching today  to see if any hummingbirds show up at the nectar feeders. We noticed a female ruby-throated hummingbird late yesterday but, so far today, no one's been at either the front or the back feeders. We won't be surprised if we've been abandoned for warmer climes because it is that time of year. JourneyNorth reports that hummingbird numbers are dropping up North (that's us). On the other hand, the number of goldfinches at the seed feeders seems to be exploding.

driveway mums from a past year

Photo by J. Harrington

Unlike Winter, when much of the pleasure is condensed into the two weeks of Christmas and New Year's, Autumn spreads its pleasures throughout the season. If it weren't for political campaigns, with all their negative adds, every other year, Autumn would be impeccable. Do you suppose we could move elections to  February or March?

September, 1918

By Amy Lowell

This afternoon was the colour of water falling through sunlight;

The trees glittered with the tumbling of leaves;

The sidewalks shone like alleys of dropped maple leaves,

And the houses ran along them laughing out of square, open windows.

Under a tree in the park,

Two little boys, lying flat on their faces,

Were carefully gathering red berries

To put in a pasteboard box.

Some day there will be no war,

Then I shall take out this afternoon

And turn it in my fingers,

And remark the sweet taste of it upon my palate,

And note the crisp variety of its flights of leaves.

To-day I can only gather it

And put it into my lunch-box,

For I have time for nothing

But the endeavour to balance myself

Upon a broken world.

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