Sailing quietly towards the ground, twirling upon the breeze, leaves began to tumble and drift, peppering the lawn below.  Serene and lovely, mesmerizing and therapeutic, nature was tranquil, wholly at ease.   Technically, this Friday marks the official first…

    Hastening through the prairie, rustling and rattling the tall grasses like a predator stalking her pray, Autumn slinks forward, lying in wait.  She will soon pounce and make herself known.   The official start of Autumn is merely a stone’s…

  August, like a cherished, faded bloom, is being tucked away and pressed between the pages of an unwieldy book to be preserved and remembered as a sweet and affable time.  Summer is dwindling and grows weary and worn, her…

  The sallow tones of late Summer were exacerbated by the ripened afternoon sun that made visible every flaw and anomaly.  A fine, golden mist was suspended in the thick, gummy air, never quite making it to the ground.  It fell silently…

  Ponderous grows the landscape, sluggish is the lawn.  The vibrant, lively hues of Summer ripen and languish.  Glowing sprays of Goldenrod permeate the garden while ornamental grasses brandish their feathery tufts of bronze seed heads.  Gold finches return to assess the maturing…

As the Linden begins to shed her utilitarian, green overcoat, her gilded gown beneath reveals itself as she prepares for the long awaited autumnal ball.  The Maples too have started to slough their summer attire, and acorns abound, littering the ground below.  Soon, the landscape will…

The fragile, silvery strand caught a splinter of light, momentarily shimmering and glistening in the summer sun.  As the wind began to roil and swirl, the spider’s silk became untethered, taking flight upon the breeze.  An almost invisible moment became apparent.  A shared…

The stars dangled off the branches like delicate, silver ornaments while the moon drenched the earth in a luminous glow.  Distant geese chortled as the frogs croaked rhythmically in their grassy fens.  It was a perfect Spring night.  Life was awakening, flexing its…

I believe Mark Twain said it best, “In the spring I have counted one hundred and thirty-six different kinds of weather inside four and twenty hours.”  This may seem like an odd Spring thus far, but I believe it’s as…