We awoke to snow falling on golden maples.
Sticky flakes clung to not yet fallen leaves.
The roads of Bethel shimmered like black rivers.
The sky was church white. Steeples disappeared into mist, pointing at nothingness.
The mountains obscured, the calendar forgotten. There is a reason they are called the White Mountains.
No Snow Day for the children of Bethel.
Would teacher care for a frozen apple?
Over Columbus Day weekend, we had hiked up gilded summits.
The sun was warm, the breeze gentle.
A beaver pond reflected the sky, one blue square in autumn’s quilt.
"Busy beavers" napped in their den. Did they know?
My dog was kitted out in orange,
not to be mistaken for a deer,
although that season hasn’t begun.
Rifle shots echoed across the valley.
It must be time to hunt something.
Many of the leaves hadn’t turned.
Even the early red maples still showed green veins.
We had been treated to a lingering summer.
August had stretched into September, and September into October.
Late summer and early winter: what have you done with autumn?
We drove downriver to the rainy coast.
Snow melted in our wake like a dream.
Blog Watch: This post is part of The Fall Color Project @The Home Garden. Dave will be posting links to peak fall foliage. Eternal autumn!