Pennants

October's flying her last flags;  she won't surrender to November. 

Walk the wild side, 

Walk it now. Get her before she leaves us;

We went out west again yesterday to visit, and bird, and so Becky could shop. The colors were fine as frog's hair, all purple, puce, and magenta.....plus every single shade of brown and gold that the good Lord chose to send us. 

Oaks of every shape and sort were clinging to their leaves like oak trees always do. 

I think they're bashful. 

Maples, sumacs, the tender deciduous trees, they just let it all hang out.

Toss their leaves on the closet floor, race away naked, rustle, rustle, rustle.

Oaks hug their wrappers tight around them, like grannies wearing curlers, clutching flannel to their breasts, as if to ward off peepers.

Peeping Toms that we are, we delighted in the colors, and a good thing too, as at least hereabouts the woods are getting awful bare.

All too soon comes the penance of November, payback for every inch of summer.

I was grateful today for one last wild walk....well, maybe not the last, but the end of these passable days is coming soon....before the white stuff flies and ice and hunters keep me near the house.