Abruptly, the temperatures dropped and the rains came. Breo and I walk later because it´s still dark at 8:00. Roses are putting out their last blooms of the year. The leaves are turning and falling.
And the whine of chainsaws is constant in the distance, as tractors and trailers rumble up and down the road up the hill.
They´ve cleared an entire lot of oaks, pines, and even eucalyptus.
Unfortunately, one was a favorite of mine, an old oak curving out over the path like the figurehead on the prow of a boat, tall and elegantly swathed in a green velvet robe of moss. I feel it´s absence.
This year I will plant trees.
Still, new life appears. The rain has brought out the mushrooms, some quite tall. Looks like a good year for chestnuts and acorns, too.