The ash tree nearest my house is completely bare, its golden leaves shed for the year. The locusts are following, helped I'm sure by the near-frost we had over the weekend. I took a long walk on Sunday morning and didn't see any signs of frost but let me know if you got hit! My own little outdoor garden weathered the cold nights fine, the volunteer dill still growing like feathery forest.
Orange coming in
Global warming sucks for uncountable reasons. But one that is a mixed blessing is the stretching out of the foliage season. Where it used to be one big intense show, with all the colors coming at once, these days you get these stages and the season stretches out for weeks or months. Whether that's good or bad is up to how you enjoy your pleasures.
The earliest seem to be the trees governed by the length of the day -- axial tilt does not care about climate change and the nights stretch out even in our warmest years. I'm going to see if I can find some information about why the earliest trees seem to be mostly yellow-gold (our locusts and ashes).
I don't know if sugar maples are determined by temperature or length of day, but they are really coming into their own now. The clouds and rain last week did us no favors on bright, clear days, when the sunlight streams through that orange, the trees seem to catch fire.
Red is probably next and I'll keep an eye out for the best red. Look forward to some really stunning maples and more sumacs.
Hawks
Sunday, walking back from True Grounds, I heard that red-tailed hawk scream. LOUD. Arrestingly loud. I rocked to a stop and looked up to see five hawks circling lazily on the thermals overhead. (TBH, I saw four. My partner saw five though.)
It's not shocking -- this is the peak of their migration season. And all those rats and bunnies we complain about are excellent food for our red tailed neighbors. (Ditch the poison, folks!) But I've never seen five (or four) together at the same time and spent a happy ten minutes watching their swooping loops.
My partner says that, in parts of Texas, you can see hundreds of broad-wings circling in clusters known as "kettles". Their "heading for winter homes in Central and South America" according to Audubon Texas.
Be smart, be safe, be curious, be kind.