The paper was wrong. Today they issued a correction. Last year’s first measurable snowfall, of 1.2 inches, was on November 7th. We still have some time.

Today the air is filled with fog. A couple more trees – a black locust and an ash = have turned yellow. The yellow glowing through the fog is comforting, like lighted windows on a cold winter night.

Later, when the fogged burned off, the yellow leaves outside my office window positively gleamed in the sun… and our silver-grey cat, Phoebe, jumped up on the sill like a cloud. A mirror image of this morning.

The fog stayed in the air as a haze, making everything seem wistful, as though I were looking through a veil of tears. On our walk I remember a couple of young spruces, bright and erect in the shade, and a crabapple tree bathed, kissed in moist sunlight, full of rust-rose fruit.


Somehow, I can’t explain it, the sun seems lower when it sets. Now, in the fall, it gets into my eyes when I try to cut the grass. It just skims the tops of the trees, making them and the sky just above the color of grain ripe for harvest.