Nature often shares a bouquet with us. I enjoy finding a good assortment of color placed all together as with this first photo. I watch them fade and decline, remembering their original glory. The New England asters range in color from pink to a deep purple. There are two tinier varieties of aster that are white, but often get tints of purple and pinks. My mother used to recite a fall poem with a line, "Asters de purple." I have tried to find it and often wonder if the word "de" was from her European heritage, both Swedish and Italian. Because of this,asters always have offered a charm in the fall. A movement off to the side catches my attention and I head off chasing a butterfly on another bloom. My happiness is carried off on a gentle prairie breeze, carried to all who listen. It leaves a kiss on each aster as it passes them by.
Standing on the hill I looked across to see trees at a similar level. The path went at a steep angle and took me into a canyon that would remain hidden if one didn't know how to ascend into it. These are gems to find out on the prairie and always fun to explore, since you often are the only new addition to the area. I always find something new and remember the first time I was here and where I might stop to take in the silence from the outside world. All one hears are the tiny stream and wind rustling through the leaves. Soon the birds begin greeting you and the world around them to add to the beauty. I close my eyes to take in the sounds around me and drift off with the gentle breeze carrying happiness to all who listen. It is an age old song carried through time, the voice of the land.
Yes that is a tiny dog climbing on the tree spanning the creek.