Catching the last of the Red Fern in all it's Autumn glory.  Winter is sneaking in early to steal Fall's thunder with freezing temperatures and a swift end to lush Autumn blooms.

My heart and soul resonate with this elusive season.  Breathing in the crisp fall days rejuvenates and sustains me.  Soaking up every second with late morning walks, feeling the last rays of afternoon sun on a deck overlooking the mountains, uplifts and renews.

My Red Fern Inferno will soon be brown, barren, then gone.  How do I say goodbye to this splendor and learn to embrace the bitter cold?  These leaves alive with brilliant color will soon blanket the ground with lifeless, colorless piles to rake, remove or burn.

The grandson who loves to walk in the creekbed, play outside for hours during the warm Indian summer days, will soon don insulated winter attire, gloves, hat, layers  of clothing. For a rapidly approaching season will soon impose a deep cold that will last for months to come.

Childhood memories of Autumn days are among the most cherished.

My tallest lone Aspen has already begun to shed it's delicate leaves, flanked by the mighty pines that will stand strong in the snow laden weight that will be upon them.  Yet, the Aspen will come back fuller and stronger with each passing season and claim it's rightful place in the tree lined property which surrounds us.

The damp, earthy smell that is Fall, fills my nostrils, lungs; my body that embraces it's sweet aroma.  I cannot get enough of this.  It rushes through with the wind and rain that strips the waiting trees of their summer foliage.  It happens so fast I dare not blink.  I long for this season, it's sultry nights, it's sensuous mornings and afternoon delights.

Bundling up baby Sydney for the last crisp walks, blanketed, cozy with cheeks of rosie redness; a nose to match.  Listening to her giggle as the stroller rolls quickly up the hill to our favorite mountain views.  Sunlight dances on her face, illuminating her perfect complexion and the hints of auburn in her hair.

Off we go, on this perfect fall day.  Another glimpse of Autumn leaves amidst pine needles blanketing the yard in preparation for the inevitable freeze over night.  It's coming...on quick little feet.  No stopping it, or the penetrating drop in temperatures that awaits us.

The mama black bear and her cubs can still be seen, gathering food wherever they can, filling their furry, fat bellies for the nearing hibernation.  Their long winter slumber promises dreams of Spring rain, overflowing creeks, honey dripping from whiskers...the waking to warmth again.

Too soon to say goodbye for me.  My beloved season is wanning, giving way to leafless trees and bushes, wilted flowers gone till next Spring.  It's happening too quickly.  Not ready to great the Winter, the dirty snow, the ice.  The inner poet must seek new inspiration to propel into to next Spring, by way of Summer, to get to the next magical Autumn.  There is reassurance that it will come again.

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