Last Autumnal Breaths of Cadmium and Aureolin Yellow with Palm Warbler Only Passing Through

Last breaths of cadmium and aureolin yellow 

falling through another season of autumn . . . 

 as it falls through us . . . only passing through it all . . . 

Rock Maples stand mighty and tall.

Miscanthus yellow blazes sigh with tassels reaching upwards ten feet high. 

Standing nearby, soft rustling songs become more an undertone as lengthy, waving blades . . .  yellow . . .  then fade, and float towards the leafy floor. 

A brighter, fleeting yellow reflecting tones of our November garden and landscape . . . little Palm Warbler . . . only passing through, where I used to believe you stayed and bred your brood. You are headed south now to the southerly edges of the United States or perhaps you prefer the Caribbean after spending summer months in the brisk provinces of Canada.

I last sighted one of your kind in the month of April on his way to points further north. There was such a promise of green back then and plenty of food to keep this sunny songbird content in lingering within our community for a cluster of days.

I can see you are a different bird all together from the Palm Warbler I so delighted in this spring. Wishing you a safe journey to wherever you choose to overwinter and hopefully with vernal vegetation anew, I will be here to see your cheery, cadmium yellow plumes mirroring clumps of merry daffodils.

Tree Swallows do return and remain every spring and summer, raising spirited broods here in the south field within the weathered walls of our rustic nest box . . . now being choked by bittersweet as it takes its last gulps of duller yellow.

Our weepy cherry's yellow canopy now lies in a buttery carpet around its twenty-year old main stem.  

Asparagus gone wild, flames cobalt-yellow before our Metasequoia gone russet about the north field. 

A couple of our crabapple trees, within the small orchard, make shiny, yellow spheres . . . tiny apples tasty to birds, throughout the winter months.

While on the ground, beneath our oldest apple tree, the vermilion stream of fruit has become a favorite rivulet for our resident White-tailed Deer to step into. Soon the flow of apples will run dry and that is, as it should be.

Beware brown eyes . . . it is the hour of hunting season of your clan . . . by man . . . who hopes to eat you, apples and all. And I could say . . . if with integrity and honor this beautiful beast comes to be . . .  venison . . . that too might be . . . as it should be. Still, I will continue to whisper . . . "Stay close and you will be safe." Heed yellow's warning . . . with your usual caution . . . stepping through the land beyond this land.

Vermilion Murmurs and Malus within a November Landscape

Cinnabar and Dragon blood come to mind when seeing the vibrant vermilion sprays of our middle garden Japanese Maple. Its blazing breath reaches over towards payne's gray shadows racing through the forested hills, we call Walnut Hill and High Ridge, creating a stunning contrast. Sturdy oaks still grasping their last burnt sienna leaves are nearly naked now. The Japanese Maple is as out of place in our landscape as an ancient Dracaena cinnabari might be, but it is a dormant dragon so lifting the spirit with its late and lasting fiery vibrance. 

Viburnums have yet to let go of their purple leaves.

Cotinus, without the smoke, adds to the last of early November's crimson garden palette. 

Another sleeping dragon rests just below the farmhouse in our weeping Cutleaf Japanese Maple.

Other reds in the gardens this November are juicy spheres by the hundreds . . . apples remaining on, or below, the apple trees. We have a variety of Malus senior citizens about the gardens and are thankful to those who planted the ever giving trees, one at least, over a century ago.

Sedum 'Autumn Joy' still wearing its burgundy tones before aforementioned century old apple tree. 

A stream of free falls given a good wash make yummy apple sauce. 

Weeping crabapple outside of the little studio offers a tangy feast for over wintering birds.

Our Metasequoia in the north field spreads out her russet plumes.

In the south field sumac brightens the fading countryside.

Meanwhile, as bold colors depart and cold, chilly air arrives, I have added another warbler to my 'A Bestiary. . . Tales From A Wildlife Garden' over at Native Plants and Wildlife Gardens. The stout little Black-throated Blue Warbler becomes the twenty-fourth beast . . . the seventh warbler . . .  joining the bubbly bouquet of songbirds.