Fog hugs the distant ridges with its damp embrace and a light mist falls gently, caressing the bosom of the earth with its tender touch. Everything is soaked; beads of water hang from every branch and leaf. The world is wrapped in silence much as the ridges are enrobed with the fog. Two jays scream almost in unison and the silence is broken. A dog barks in the distance and a cow bawls from a nearby pasture. Then all is once more quiet.

Fields of goldenrod are no longer bright with color. Their once kingly crowns bow before the mist, sodden and brown yet ultimately triumphant, for where once golden blossoms bloomed now lie treasures of a different sort. This treasure is the seeds of a future generation, an assurance that there will be fields of goldenrod in the year to come.

New England asters lift their purple heads to the mist as if in gratitude for the refreshing moisture. Their royal colors brighten the otherwise drab fields of now mature flowers, their spirits seemingly uplifted rather than dampened by the gently falling mist.

Here and there in the woodlots soft maples splash their crimson colors against a mostly-green background. Staghorn sumacs flout their flaming banners to the fog-shrouded countryside.

A countryman walks towards home, breathing deeply of the cool, moist air and savoring its freshness and unadulterated purity. There is much to be said for sun-filled, warm October days but a man can also sense the richness of color and softness of mood of a fog-enshrouded and mist-laden autumn day.


Autumn winds shake the trees and multi-hued leaves scatter to the bosom of the earth, covering it with a colorful blanket. Black walnuts lose their grip on their natal branches and briefly shower earthward, hitting the ground with resounding thumps.

Hawks, migrating southward, sail with the wind on favorable days when winds blow out of the north. Local red-tailed hawks use the winds to their advantage while hunting for something to fill their empty stomachs. They often also may be seen perched in trees or atop utility poles along roadways as they scan the ground for prey.

As a countryman watches several robins and listens to their conversational chirpings, he hears the dulcet voices of bluebirds. He looks in vain for them but they remain hidden from view. Only their soft warbles betray their presence and this is enough for a man as he listens to them and their robin cousins perched nearby.

During a late, warm afternoon a katydid rasps out its solo notes. A cricket chirps in an emphatic manner from a vineyard row as a man walks by.

Flickers call “clee-up!” back and forth. One lands in the top of a tree and teeters precariously on its perch as the wind flows through the branches.

A downy woodpecker goes on an inspection tour of the sumacs in the hedgerow, hitching its way up first one crooked trunk and then another. A white-breasted nuthatch calls nasally as it walks head-first down the rough bark of an aging maple.

Later in the afternoon, as a man works on a project on his porch, he is surprised to hear, almost at his elbow, the sharp soprano voice of a peeper. The tiny tree frog seems to be hidden in one of the evergreen shrubs growing close to the porch. As a man continues with his work, the strident calls continue, only interrupted by brief periods of silence.

Two white-crowned sparrows forage about the shrubbery as a man finishes up his project. Eventually they move elsewhere.

A man picks up his tools and materials and leaves the porch area to the little tree frog who voices its farewell in the same vein as it first announced its presence.


Autumn lengthens into the eleventh month and its previously mild and easy-going nature now takes on a more severe attitude, using a sharp north wind as emphasis. It is as if Autumn is advising the land and its inhabitants that harder times lie just around the corner.

At this time of the year the annual autumn rains can be expected and indeed they are much needed before the ground freezes. When the rains come in November they often change suddenly into snow pellets that rattle among the leaves on the forest floor. On the other hand, showers may quickly convert to frozen flakes of snow that settle swiftly earthward.

The vegetation has now been seared by the frosts and freezes. Weed patches are brown and sere and play host to goldfinches, juncos and sparrows.

Local geese honk their way back and forth between the lakes and whatever fields of corn that have been at least partially harvested.

Crows harass a hawk in a wooded area and make it very difficult for the raptor to concentrate on its visual search for food.

Three deer feed at the edge of an alfalfa field for some time until, for some reason, they decide to move back into the seclusion of the nearby woodlot.

The raw air of the day makes a countryman decide to head towards the comforts of home. A song sparrow calls from an overgrown brush pile and a gray squirrel, camouflaged against the gray trunk of an oak tree, hopes in vain that the passing man will not see it. It remains motionless, only its tail, fluttering in the breeze, betrays its presence. A bit further on, a little red squirrel clings sideways to the curling, gray bark of a hickory and watches as a man approaches. Suddenly, it races up the tree and out of sight.

A countryman turns up his collar against the bite of the wind and continues on his way, enjoying the sound and scent of the dried leaves that cackle beneath his feet.