OldTroubador's blog post - Autumn

There is a change in the air; summer is winding down. Baseball now shares the spotlight as the football season gears up. Burgers, steaks, and ribs on the grill are soon to be replaced with stews and hearty soups. The days are getting shorter as the nights get longer. There is a coolness in the air now and the heaters come on to drive away the morning chill. It is autumn.
It started a few weeks ago, as the colors of the trees started to change from a deep, rich green to lighter hues. The sumac trees began to wear their fiery red coloration, as did the poison ivy vines climbing up tree trunks. Subtle shadings of red and yellow were evident in the northern states.
Across the land, farmers were starting the harvest. The first fields to be cut were the early plantings of corn as combines criss-crossed the acres, dumping their loads into grain haulers. These trucks hustled to elevators to be off-loaded and make the return trip; both groups working long into the night. As the season progresses, the cutting heads of the combines are changed so the soybeans fields can be shorn, then back again to take the later plantings of corn. Fields of pumpkins stretch along hillsides, the orange globes ripe and ready for picking. In the south, cotton fields are coming close to harvest too, the bolls open and white, making the fields look as if snow-dusted. In Louisiana, the equipment for harvesting the sugarcane is prepared for that harvest which begins in late November. Roadside farmers’ markets feature apples now instead of corn, green beans, and tomatoes. In every state, the farmers are working hard to bring in the harvest.
Ponds and small lakes have turned over, the warmer top layer of water cooling and mixing with the colder layers below. Lily pads and other water plants are brown and curled, beginning their winter dormancy. In the early morning, as the sun begins to rise and the waters lie placid, these lakes and ponds become mirrors, doubling the beauty of the colored trees that surround them. In the afternoons, as the water warms, dimples on the water tell the tale of larger fish gorging on schools of baitfish. The rivers and creeks, those that are not flooded by storms, run shallow and clear, giving one the chance to see the rock lined creek or river beds.
Autumn is a time for migration for all creatures great and small. Butterflies started their travels to warmer climes a few weeks ago. Blackbirds are beginning to gather in huge flocks that will stretch for miles in the sky. Soon, snow geese and Canada geese will also gather in massive V-formations and work their way south, following the harvest of grains before alighting in the cleared rice fields of Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas. Hawks by the thousands will also wing their way to the southern plains to spend the winter, while sandhill cranes leave the northern Midwest for the sands of the Gulf Coast. In the Atlantic and Pacific oceans and the Gulf of Mexico, warm water fish will swim toward the tropics, following the temperate waters. And on the roadways, vehicles with license plates from Canada and the northern tier states are driven to the Gulf shores, their owners desperately seeking the warmth of the southern sun.
In a lesser known sign of the approaching winter, traffic signs on the snowmobile trails are put back in place, telling of intersections and turns, places to yield or to stop.
For a couple of days, I was able to travel through the Adirondack Mountains. For most of the first day, the sky was clear and bright, although the coming clouds foretold of a weather change the next day. Trees sporting leaves of red, orange, yellow, tawny, gold, and burgundy graced the hillsides and ridgelines of green pines and the light aqua of blue spruce. Sometimes, the colors made vivid slashes through the greenery. Other times, whole hillsides were transformed into a kaleidiscopic riot of color, the brilliant sunshine intensifying their brilliant colorations. The most exquisite of all are the maples with their leaves of orange, yellow, and red glowing like fire. Some were in full bloom while others were in the process of changing – the outer leaves having changed color as the inner leaves stayed bright green.
Looking down into the valleys, the fields supporting the dairy operations lay. Fields of alternating brown and green indicated where corn and hay grew – the corn taken and blown into silos to ferment into silage, the last cuttings of hay having been baled and stored, all to feed the cattle through the coming winter. The fields of grass and alfalfa glowed fluorescent under the bright sun and clear sky.
Further south, in the hills of Alabama and Georgia, the same transformation is taking place, albeit without the pageantry of the north. The preponderance of oaks here means the colors are muted, but no less stunning. Brown, burgundy, brass, and copper paint broad brushstrokes through the green of loblolly pine.
While traveling the interstates, ever changing views scroll past windshield. As the highway climbs, drops, and curves, the vista is constantly changing. Ridges close to the road move aside as the curtain on a Broadway play, slowly revealing hill and vale infused with the colors of autumn in broad panorama.
Driving on the smaller roads, I am treated to a different perspective of the new season. The sweet aroma of apple orchards clashes with the dry dust rising from the fields of corn and soybeans being harvested. Tractors towing grain bins and combines share the road with cars, trucks, and school buses. The low sun casts shadows across the road I travel, creating a strobe effect through the windshield. And as the sun pours through the trees of many colors, and as they arch over the highway, I feel as if I am walking down a hallway in a monastery, the walls lined with stained glass.
Whether on large road or small, I am always looking over the sides of bridges I cross to find hidden treasures; I am rarely disappointed. Crossing a small two lane road, there is a beech tree in gorgeous yellow next to it. There is no wind and it has started to drop its leaves. They land on the asphalt, creating a golden halo on the black surface of the road. Small multicolored rafts of leaves drift placidly with the current of creeks and streams. Parents rake fallen leaves into great piles, just to see their work undone by children running through the piles and scattering the detritus all over the yard.
Winter is coming, soon. The monochromatic landscape, the lowering clouds portending another winter storm, the bone chilling cold and wind. But before all becomes drab, nature stages one last hurrah, going out in a blaze of glorious, riotous color.