October 26

The remaining maple leaves in the yard, left unattended after having escaped our raking two days ago, have faded from their golden yellow to a light brown. This morning they are curling on the edges, where the touch of frost from the last evening has collected on the veins, making each leaf appear highlighted in dusty-white sparkles.

The grass is also tinged in white, crunching beneath our feet as we walk and leaving footprint depressions that strangely melt in the wake of passing. These remain as darkened prints against the frosted lawn, waiting until the morning sun warms enough to erase the effect.

These frosts ebb and flow now, creeping in steadily in the night and staying longer in the morning with each passing day. Soon they will take hold for the long stretch, were the radiant warmth is too feeble to stem the tide of winter’s approach.