Outside my back window, the tall evergreens have kept their dark green foliage. Between them, peaking through and announcing themselves, are oak and other trees, resplendent in their colorful glory as they change from green to orange to yellow to dead leaves. The winds have swirled the leaves about, and they are carried off in the nearby creek, leaving a constant carpet change under the trees. Over our back fence, the does and their fawns [including one set of twins!] have taken refuge at night under a quartet of evergreens, coming out each morning to stare as I prepare coffee.

Just outside our dining room sliding door, where I tilt the blinds each morning to watch birds and trees, the silver madrone tree that straddles the property line is showing the effects of upcoming winter as it turns slowly to simply hibernation. I watch with concern each change of seasons as a vertical crack that runs the length of the trunk portends a failure. A small tree that has volunteered itself among the madrone's roots has turned orange and yellow in stark contrast. A bit further off is a red madrone, its trunk and branches' bark almost stripped by the winds. When it is drizzling or not raining, the chickadees and sparrows are joined by scrubjays and blue birds looking for bugs, their work serenaded by mockingbirds and woodpeckers.
Ginger