Mid-October #phenology

Lots of local farmers beat the storm we’ve had the last couple of days and got their crops in before the fields turned to mud. From what we’ve noticed driving around the last day or so, most of the soy bean fields and many of the corn fields have been harvested. The corn that’s still standing is looking shop worn, if that term can be applied to row crops.

St. Croix valley fall color

Photo by J. Harrington

Phase two of leaf color peak is well underway. Late September and early October brought many maples, perhaps those that had been stressed by drought and heat(?), into scarlet, yellow, and orange. Some windy days stripped those leaves and now we’re about halfway to peak color, with oaks lagging as usual. It’s hard to document, but it feels as though fall color is developing slower than normal this year, except for the early burst.

Still no signs of woolly bear worms. And, although some years we’ve had a barred owl as an October visitor in our woods, not yet this year. Also, if there’s been any major movement of waterfowl, we’ve not seen any signs around here. It is early for snow and ice, although some years we’ve had the bird bath freeze by now. It may not fit typical phenological observations, but we now have our Halloween candy in stock, although I’ll be really surprised if we get more than one Trick or Treater. Barring Halloween blizzards, we’re expecting a visit from a 3 year old Granddaughter late afternoon or early evening on the 31st.

Maybe one day next week I’ll feel energetic enough to gas up the snow blower and change the oil. I meant to last week but it seemed as if that might just be asking for trouble. At least I’m not going to leave seasonal chores hanging on having the Republicans select a Speaker of the House. That may be this year’s biggest Trick and/or Treat by Halloween.

October

By Jacob Polley

Although a tide turns in the trees 

the moon doesn't turn the leaves, 

though chimneys smoke and blue concedes 

to bluer home-time dark. 

Though restless leaves submerge the park 

in yellow shallows, ankle-deep, 

and through each tree the moon shows, halved 

or quartered or complete, 

the moon's no fruit and has no seed, 

and turns no tide of leaves on paths 

that still persist but do not lead 

where they did before dark. 

Although the moonstruck pond stares hard 

the moon looks elsewhere. Manholes breathe. 

Each mind's a different, distant world 

this same moon will not leave.

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