Late September and early October in northeast Ohio are warm in hue … landscapes changing subtly each day. Summer’s decedents, some lost in shadow, others flame. Field grasses disappearing in the moment; ironweed, goldenrod slowly burning until extinguished.
Seed-heads across Squire Valleevue Farm stand in relief against a background of goldenrod, asters and late meadow grasses, many verdant until a frost.
I do not know what grass or weeds these may be but I see them here every year before their seeds scatter on autumn winds.
Autumn brings to mind the last stanza of Robert Frost’s poem “Reluctance”
“Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?”