A Naturalist's Autumn Lament

Many people I know love Autumn.  They love the crisp and cool air, the color of the leaves, the fragrance of pumpkin spice, and the awe of a Jack-o-Lantern.

I loath Autumn.  Everything that summer worked so hard to produce - the lush green foliage of Hickory Trees (Carya spp.), the showy blossoms of Hibiscus, the cheerfull calls of songbirds, the rhythmic trill of katydids, the gentle swoops of colorful butterflies, the splash of water from the neighbor's kids' Supersoaker fight, the low boom from the bass of Reggae music, the clinks and clangs of martini glasses on a balmy night, the beaches and marinas filled with happy voices, the proud croak of a bull frog, Popsicle drippings on the sidewalk, the sweet smell of Saucer Magnolia (Magnolia sp.) flowers, fearsome thunderstorms, the swash of a canoe paddle, the blaze of prairie flowers - all begin a slow and gruesome death as the first waves of cold frosty air and biting windchills descend upon it all.

The rub of cricket wings slows to a dim and faint crrrrrrrrrrrkkkk.  The once showy goldenrods (Salidago spp.) are whipped down by strong Northwest winds.  Roadside weeds rust into solid brown stalks, umbrellas outside friendly cafes are brought inside hurriedly as temperatures plummet.  Kids scowl as they reenter their schools, leaving behind their summer fun as crinkled leaves hide away the lawn grass of the nearby park where they played.  Scores of Sandhill Cranes (Grus canadensis) fly over the dried and frayed Autumn landscape and head for the lush swamps of Florida.  And in the final moments of the dusty remains of summer, a strong cold front sends vertical blasts of wet sleet and snow, finishing off whatever hope of warm weather someone might have had.

Once winter sets in, the reality that summer is long gone and no where to be found leaves me with the bittersweet feeling that perhaps Spring will arrive more quickly than I think.  For now I'll just watch Summer's glory fade away from the windowsill of my breakfast nook.

Figure 1:  Where I live in Northern Illinois,
the showy blossoms of New England Aster (Symphyotrichium novae-angliae) mark the end of summer.
This common wildflower often persists up until the first hard freeze of the season.  



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