Sounds of Silence

Listening....

Wind gives cottonwood its voice.

From the first coin-sized silver-green leaves in the spring to the giant yellow circles of autumn, it keeps it talking all year long. Muttering under its breath at a slow summer updraft that offers just a taste of relief from the heat.

Chattering with delight as a cool stiff wind hustles by.

Clattering and jangling with the sprightly drafts of fall.

Cottonwoods are talkative, companionable trees that report the weather as faithfully as any stuffed suit in a studio and prettier by far. Sometimes they startle me as I skulk below, rattling into discourse as suddenly as thunder. 

But then..........now....the wind taketh away what it has given in all the warm months. 

Reaching into cottonwood clusters it rips away all song. It leaves only a whistle through the branches and crunching underfoot as the leaves go crisp and shatter.

And then the first cold rain of fall dampens even that music and winter is hard upon us. 

I see evidence that this coyote has been stomping grapes
for wine to warm his winter hearth.