
Red squirrel is running down the hill with a baseball in his mouth! The sphere-like object is one of the wild apples, pale yellow with a pink blush. This morning when I was weeding ferns, I noticed how many of these fruits were nibbled. The deer are here at least twice a day chunking down whole fruits. Mothers and fawns come by every August to feast on these ripened golden apples. So does everyone else! So many fruits hit and bounce off the metal roof before tumbling to the ground that I can’t believe there are still so many apples hanging from that tree. All around me curled crinkled wizened brown or pale yellow leaves drift listlessly to the ground. Windless days make it obvious that falling leaves belong to the end of one season and the beginning of another. A poignancy rises from within because summer is almost over and we had so few days of cerulean skies with puffy white clouds. Lots of murky yellowish blurs at sunset, masses of pollen and thick humidity leave me enervated most of the time. I’ll be the first one to admit it; I miss those wondrous summer days we all took for granted. How much has changed…I am sad to leave a season behind that never blossomed into what seemed to be a timeless canvas of blue and gold.
Continue reading “The Great Round – Falling leaves in late August 2026 by Sara Wright”





