You wend your way across the meadow’s open expanse as the early sun casts its glow upon the toadstools and the tumbled leaves. The chill air catches at your throat as you breathe deep. Negativity disperses with the puther of each expelled breath.
For a time, you stop and sit beside the pond, allowing your thoughts to pool like the waters of the stream. A robin warbles from the concealment of tangled beaches. It’s song sounds melancholic, as if in remembrance of lost summer days, but still it continues to sing, undaunted by the months of cold that lie ahead.
You take your leave of the pooling waters as an icy wind begins to rise, and you follow the pathway through the trees. Branches bow in courteous arches over the trail, clad in fragile garb of green and gold. You bow your head in return, bidding farewell, knowing that you will return again soon.
I only made it out to the meadow, woodland and stream / pond on one occasion during November, and unfortunately I didn’t stay out for long – the wind was incredibly cold and it was forecasted to get much worse as the day went on. Which it did. I expect that the trees would have had far fewer leaves by the end of that day! I did manage to take a few pictures during the short time I was there, however.
I hope you like them.
To see how the area has looked at other times of the year, check out the Changing Seasons category page for older pictures.
This post is for Cardinal Guzman’s Monthly Changing Seasons photo challenge.