The Silver Maple at the edge of the yard shed this brilliant leaf.
Autumn is here.

Sunrise, on a late summer day by the calendar. Sunrise, on an early autumn day by how it feels.

. . . will soon become winter’s blue and white.

And that’s fine. I am not sad about winters’ approach . . . I have no control over the weather or climate. It’s better, healthier, to accept what will be.
Nearby trees appear to arch almost directly overhead.

Black-eyed Susans hang on into late October.
Back on Thursday.

A combine cuts the first swathe through a soybean field. The last swathe may be done before I see the field tomorrow morning.
Back on Thursday.
