Some autumn mornings begin with a sound before they become a lesson. An acorn hits the roof, then another taps the path, then a whole corner of the garden seems to be clicking and rolling under the oak. By afternoon, the ground has changed texture. The lawn is studded with brown caps. The stone path feels like a loose ball…
By November, most deciduous trees have become honest silhouettes. The maple has emptied itself. The serviceberry is bare. The birch has given its leaves to the path. Then, at the woodland edge or in a young hedge, a beech or oak still stands with dry copper leaves clinging to every twig, rattling softly whenever the wind moves through. It can…
