November's russet leaf. (Click picture for larger view)
"The dusky waters shudder as they shine,The leaves have turned and with the wind many have given up and floated to the ground. I still found color in the forest around Williamsburg; and color floating in the meandering stream flowing through my favorite little park. The water is brackish, a mixture of fresh and backwater from the Chesapeake Bay; it is never very blue, but now the shallows flow slowly with a brownish hue from the muddy bottom. In summer, the green water plants cover this area and butterflies abound sucking nectar from pink blooms. Now sea grass and the occasional cattail remain, trapping the larger leaves as they float with the current. A few more weeks now and the forest will take on it's thin skeleton look. Until then I'll cling to every last bit of color we have, however small and seemingly insignificant. Wouldn't you?
The russet leaves obstruct the straggling way
Of oozy brooks, which no deep banks define,
And the gaunt woods, in ragged scant array,
Wrap their old limbs with sombre ivy twine.
~ Hartley Coleridge, November
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