“Of all the seasons, autumn offers the most…and requires the least… .” – Hal Borland
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I hear them before I see them.
Jeff and I are out for a neighborhood walk when the cries stop us in our tracks. Sandhill cranes! It’s the first wave we’ve seen of the many cranes yet to come, moving in their cursive migratory swirls south. We stand on the sidewalk, looking into the bright sky and shielding our eyes against the sun, until they are out of sight.
Seeing the cranes is a sign of seasonal transition here in the Chicago region. It’s still autumn by the calendar and also, by the gorgeous weather we’ve had lately. This week we’ll hit 64 degrees! And the endless sunshine makes it seem even warmer. But the cranes remind me that winter is whispering in the wings.
Other signs remind me as well.
Pulling the tomato cages out of the vegetable garden and stacking them in the shed. Digging the dahlia tubers—a gift from a friend this spring—and storing them for the winter. Pressing garlic cloves into the cold, wet earth of a raised garden bed for harvest next July. Collecting the swamp milkweed, rough blazing star, and other seeds from my prairie plantings.
And still autumn lingers. Dawdling. Lollygagging. The world doesn’t seem quite ready for winter, yet, does it?
How about you? Are you ready for it?
I may be rushing the seasonal transition a bit by putting out the pumpkins for the squirrels.
I strip the autumnal decorations from the house and porch; swap them out for boxes of Christmas lights and pre-lit reindeer. And yet… .
Autumn leaves and fall color keep hanging on. Each day, Jeff and I tell each other we need to go for a walk to see the last remaining fall color. “It will be gone soon. Let’s enjoy it now.”
But autumn’s delights just keep on coming.
I love rambling around in the November sunshine, the crisp wind blowing leaves off the trees into gold and scarlet confetti.
As I hike, I see starlings wheel in impossible murmurations across the sky.
Occasionally, the whole chattering flock lands to feed on something delicious, like the wild plums, or the fruits of the terribly invasive Callery Pear, sometimes called Bradford Pear, which still pops up in natural areas despite our stewardship efforts. Some believe starlings are one of the primary seed dispensers of this tree. Can you find the starling in this one?
Some of the grasses, now rainbowed in autumnal hues, will soon be bleached in the cold to come.
Look! I tell myself. Soak up this color! Stay in the moment!
But, being a planner and long list-maker, I think ahead to colder weather. The holidays. Travel. Snow.
When I ask my friends how they feel about winter, the reactions are mixed. Some older friends dread it, and “snowbird” to warmer places, such as Arizona or Florida. Some of my prairie steward friends exult in winter, with its lack of insects, brisk days where you don’t sweat so much, and myriad opportunities for brush cutting. My grandchildren love the holidays, and opportunities for sledding, skiing, and hot chocolate.
Others embrace each day as it comes. Tranquil. Accepting.
I want to be more like that. And, I think I’d miss winter in the Midwest, should I find myself living elsewhere. The transition of the seasons feels like a restart. A refresh. A chance to look at the past few months and see what’s been accomplished, and what has been neglected. An opportunity to make a new list of possibilities. To let go of some things that haven’t worked out and dream about what might lie ahead.
Meteorological winter begins Dec. 1, only a few weeks away. Astronomical winter isn’t until Dec. 21. I’m looking forward to the new season. But for now, I’m soaking up every unexpectedly gorgeous November day as it comes.
Why not go outside right now and take a look? Let me know what you see, and how you feel about the coming winter.
It’s on the way.
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Hal Borland (1900-1978) was a naturalist and staff writer for The New York Times. I have several of his books on my bookshelf, most of them gifts from a lovely reader of this blog (Thank you, Helen!). Several of them are the “through the year” type of format with daily readings, which is a lovely way to follow the seasons. In addition to his journalistic pieces and essays, he wrote poetry, fiction, and short stories. Borland won the John Burroughs Distinguished Medal for Nature Writing in 1968 for Hill Country Harvest.
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Join Cindy for a Class or Program at the End of 2023!
11/15 –7-8:30 p.m.: “A Brief History of Trees in America” hosted by the Downers Grove Organic Garden Club. Free and open to the public! For more information, click here.
12/1 — 10-11:30 a.m.: “Bison Tales and Tallgrass Trails” at the Morton Arboretum’s beautiful Sterling Morton Library in Lisle, IL. (Please note!: Last week, The Morton Arboretum opened up a larger room for this sold-out program! — registration is still limited, however. To register, click here.)
12/12– 6:45-8 p.m.: “Winter Prairie Wonders” hosted by the Buffalo Grove Garden Club. Free and open to the public! For more information, click here.
More classes and programs are at www.cindycrosby.com .
Tuesdays in the Tallgrass 