Maybe They Didn’t

Funny thing is, I used to think I didn’t like this time of year. The leaves gone or going. The pasture dormant. The cows’ coats thickening. First ice in the water troughs. Rain on the edge of snow or maybe snow on the edge of rain. No difference, really.

But look at that photo (which is actually from last year, but hey, close enough). Look at the bluegrey of the sky, the white of the birches and the cows gathered among them, bent to their hay. Even the dun-colored pasture. That’s Morgan and Jen’s farm on the ridge across the valley. Just to the right of that, hidden behind the a rise of leafless trees, is the field we hay with Martha and Lynn. This was a good haying summer. Best one anyone can remember.

Around here, people call this “stick season,” that post-foliage, pre-winter period that lasts from mid-October to the first staying snow. You still see the occasional chartered bus of leaf peepers, but they’re too late. Shoulda been here two weeks ago, when it looked like every tree was on a different shade of fire. Yeah, they missed the boat.

Or maybe they didn’t.