Funny, isn't it, how the trees shed their clothing just as we start to bundle up? Yesterday saw a brief but intense windstorm that whipped many of the remaining golden poplar leaves off the branches above us and sent them soaring far across the pasture.
Fall is an awfully good name.
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1 comment:
Robin, my dear sister. Your blog has brightened my day. One fall when the girls were very young, maybe 2 or 3 they were crying, (make that screaming) in the car on the way home from who knows where. To calm them down I made up a song to the tune of "Making Whoopy" It goes like this:
The trees are naked
they have no clothes on
their leaves have fallen to the ground
The trees are naked
they have no clothes on
They're making compost!
duh-duh-duh-duh-duh duht!
I love you!
Your sis
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