- - The Soul in November How she looks I cannot say, although the petal-less heads of goldenrod, not flaming yellow any longer, are ...

- - With a broken-down hot tub, last winter’s night sky had to shine without us. We think of the hot tub as a vacation, spread out through...

- - Thanks for relishing with me the beautiful time at the lake with Inge, what we think of as our autumn writing retreat. Besides our lux...

- - As Winter gets ready to hook her come-hither finger around the neck of the sun, our inner rooms begin to come alive with the warm glow ...

- - A year in an apple Crunch into the sweet flesh, and winter snow crumbles under a black branch where the juncko lands. With the s...

- - Nights start to cool, tomatoes like the world grow heavy. A mid-size calf looks at you and splays to his mother. She lows protectively,...

- - My leather clogs are soaked with dew and yesterday's rainfall through to my socks, and my backside is damp from the roughhewn rai...

- - John Keats needs no image support for his poem to autumn. I revel in his lines, the hair of autumn soft-lifted by the winnowing wind, ...

- - It is the season of falling. Falling down. Falling apart. Falling in love. Falling into step. Falling by the side of the road. Fallin...

- - 'Flying Dragon' Hardy Orange ( Poncirus trifoliata ) at Beal Gardens I should have taken her picture. (I want to get bolder sna...

- - Autumn sun and a light wind from the south carried the weekend up to seventy degrees (21ºC) and blue skies after a few weeks of cold we...