Delicious Autumn! My very soul wedded to it and if I were a bird, I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns. – George Eliot, English novelist, poet, journalist (1819-1880)

The leaves fall, the wind blows, and the farm country slowly changes from summer cottons into winter wools. – Henry Beston, American writer, naturalist (1888-1968)

If you live in the South, you know the weather is predictably unpredictable. With the threat of a freeze, we prepared the greenhouse and the well house and just about everything we could think of. Changing our clothing closets from summer attire to transitional fall wear was part of the preparation. It would include long sleeve tees and shirts, long pants including camouflage pants and shirts, hunter orange hoodies along with light sweaters, my long dresses and skirts and leggings to keep warm. A few blankets were pulled out, air conditioners turned off, and the heat turned up a bit; the pilot light on the fireplace was lit. Two days later the chill was gone, the heat was turned off, as was the pilot light; blankets removed, while leaving the transitional closets the same.

All flowers but Prairie petunias with their blue flowers were gone. Butterflies were not noticeable. Swallowtails were gone. Hummingbirds had evacuated. The birds were still active on the birdfeeder and the water features were visited but not as much as they had before the chill.   

By the next week temperatures had eased into the high 80’s. Fortunately our “transitional” clothing would be fine. However, the treefrogs did not return to the front window nor to the treefrog hotel we had made. This was the first year the treefrogs actually used the hotel and now they would be looking for some cozy place to hibernate. I missed daily viewing of the treefrogs, the butterflies, the flowers, and the hummingbirds.

I now water plants in the greenhouse and tend to them there. I was surprised when I glanced at the water bucket and saw a treefrog peeking out of the spout. I misted him and he tucked back into the water bucket. I have accidentally poured treefrogs right out of the water bucket spout and onto a plant. I was glad to see the little fellow had housed himself in the greenhouse. Stepping out of the greenhouse there on the Prairie petunias was a yellow sulphur butterfly, the only butterfly I had seen in a week or more.

As the sun started to sink over the west field the grass showed golden brown. The trees still have leaves but they are brown and sparse. The sun shining through the trees caused them to look golden. A slight breeze made them dance.

Beyond the trees the late sun glanced across the lake looking like thousands of dazzling diamonds. I think of all of this glorious nature as my treasure. Deer have started spending the night in the high sedge fields. The fox squirrels are getting hefty and coming a little closer to the house. We have one old fox squirrel with an entirely white tail. I love seeing the sight of him since it’s so unusual. Wilhelmina takes more naps these days. She’s doing well and has a hardy appetite. There’s so much goodness in this natural world no matter the season.

Shannon Bardwell is a writer living quietly in the Prairie. Email reaches her at [email protected].

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