It’s a mild but gray day today here in Northern Virginia.  Some mixture of snow and rain is predicted for tomorrow.  It’s as good a time as any to pay homage to fall’s jewel box colors, soon to be washed away. What a beautiful season it’s been.

Kiko and I took our morning walks through landscapes of green and gold. 

On a recent foggy morning, this multicolored maple seemed to be lit from within. 

Until a day or so ago, our Japanese maples blazed with a glorious red intensity. 

Not to be outdone, other maples put on leaves of golden sunshine. 

This ginkgo’s canopy of yellow has become a carpet of yellow, perhaps equally lovely.  

My daughter, an inveterate leaf-tosser, celebrates the season amidst the fallen leaves of a sugar maple outside our church.   

Kiko, basking in the November sun, is content to model a cap of pine straw. 

Enjoy these final days of fall color!  We may be in for an icy white winter!

After Halloween each year, we set our jack-o’-lanterns out under the maple trees in the front yard as treats for local wildlife.  We enjoy watching as the deer and squirrels make short work of them.  Last year, once Thanksgiving had passed, we also offered various small pumpkins, gourds and squash, which the squirrels had been nibbling at, uninvited, since early October. 

By mid-July, fuzzy, big-leaved vines with yellow blossoms were popping up throughout our flower beds.  The squirrels, it seemed, had planted several varieties of squash. 

As farmers, the squirrels took a carpe diem attitude, eating most of the buds as soon as they appeared.  The occasional tiny proto-pumpkin developed, only to be gobbled up quickly before it had a chance to grow. We couldn’t complain.  The squirrels had done the sowing, so they were entitled to reap according to their whims. 

One little pumpkin escaped their notice.  A thick tangle of vines among our black-eyed susans sheltered a single dark green fluted globe.  I checked on it regularly, expecting its color to turn to orange.  It grew to just over softball-size and remained green.  When I examined it more closely, I saw that it was an acorn squash.  How fitting, considering it was planted by a squirrel.  

When our furry little farmers continued to neglect the fruit of their labors, I claimed the acorn squash.  My daughter and I will make a tasty fall meal of it soon.  (My husband only eats squash under extreme duress.) 

As a thank-you gift, the squirrels will soon receive our decorative gourds. 

I’ve been writing about springtime in London, yet all around me it’s autumn in Virginia.  October, that drama queen of quickly shifting colors, skies and moods, has not disappointed.  Only a scant three days remain in this most flamboyant of months.  Halloween is bearing down upon us.  High time, then, for a few local fall photos, reminders that nature’s beauty is near at hand.

Flying into Atlanta on the first day of spring, it was a great relief to see that the white patches below were not snow but the blossoming pear trees.  Otherwise, branches were bare, and color was at a minimum.  Spring has been slow in coming this year in Georgia, as in so much of the country.  The infamous ice that trapped hundreds of Atlantans on the highways overnight  in February evidently wreaked havoc on spring’s plans for buds and blooms.  The weather wasn’t warm enough for sandals and porch-sitting, as I had hoped, but it was a decided improvement over that of still-thawing Virginia. And once on the ground, in the bright, cheery sunshine, every tiny leaf  and every small flower appeared radiant and jewel-like.  It had been years since I’d had a taste of springtime in Atlanta.  It felt very right to be back.   

Pear trees in full bloom in my parents’ neighborhood.

Periwinkle peeked out among fallen oak leaves.

Violets flourished in the cracks of the concrete turnaround at my parents’ house.

In the rock garden, Lenten roses, shy and subdued.

Every spring, for as long as I can remember, these small flowers appear in the lawn panel bordering the sidewalk in front of  a neighborhood house.  Pale lavender, with yellow centers, they have a strong sweet scent, unless they’re picked, when they quickly take on a sharp skunky odor. I gathered some in elementary school after a piano recital and learned my lesson.  Anyone know what they’re called?

March 25: Snow

Here’s an understatement:  This weather situation is tiresome.

And one more:  it’s repetitious.