. . . . . . and, now some leaves are flying. A good sized shagbark hickory is behind my kitchen window; another smaller one is out front. Black walnut trees are neighbors a couple-three hundred yards yonder. Fox squirrels, and smaller black squirrels, are scampering all around, gathering nuts.
Abundant rains have kept grass a rich green, and most of the leaves are too. But, there are always the early adapters, in a hurry to be among the first. Leaves on cottowoods are dry, and getting brittle. They have a different sound as the wind rattles through the trees. No more, the gentle rustle in a breeze. Now it sounds as though leaves are made of hard metal, stone, and baked porcelain. Sharp clicks, ticks, and snappy sounds echo around the trees. Mornings have a bite to them. Autumn is falling.m
Abundant rains have kept grass a rich green, and most of the leaves are too. But, there are always the early adapters, in a hurry to be among the first. Leaves on cottowoods are dry, and getting brittle. They have a different sound as the wind rattles through the trees. No more, the gentle rustle in a breeze. Now it sounds as though leaves are made of hard metal, stone, and baked porcelain. Sharp clicks, ticks, and snappy sounds echo around the trees. Mornings have a bite to them. Autumn is falling.m
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