While away last week to my farm and forest roots, I stood stalk still for many minutes marveling at the hollow lack of color in the frond of a fern. The tamaracks also leave green behind, but exchange it for a pale or vibrant gold depending on the angle of the sun.
In my own yard, Fairy Bells are bleached by the chill of our colder nights, joining the ranks of the ghosts skulking out of the season.
Twigs, slender-red, cling loosely to the remaining wisps of Variegated Dogwood--slight vapors of the summer vine.
To all of you, thank you for your summer gift, your fall illusion and your promise in the coming spring.