The Four Seasons

     Walking Iten's Acres in late fall is a trek through the four seasons.  No, really.  Spring is here in the fall variety of crocus--lavender, white, yellow, pink, and rose.  They are the surprise flower.  Their foliage comes up in the spring; then in autumn they suddenly thrust their blooms to the sky.  One morning as I walk, there's not even a hint of the beautiful lurking under the soil.  The next morning they are popping up all over--in the flower beds, in the trees, in the middle of the lawn.  Surprise!  Spring resurrected.  A feast for old eyes.  In addition, spring reappears with the re-blooming iris--whites, yellows, and this year, a blue.  And the other "spring" returner is the autumn topaz daffodil--a brilliant yellow.  October spring.  Gorgeous.
     Summer is everywhere as I walk.  Since Jack Frost has not yet arrived, the annuals in the beds and in the planter gardens are at their peak.  They've had six months to grow and mature.  Some, like the alyssum, roses, daisies, and snapdragons, love the cooler weather and are rejuvenated.  Others just keep blooming beautifully as usual--if "usual" actually applies to flowers.  The cosmos are the stars.  By mid-October many of them are ten to fifteen feet tall and loaded with blooms.  The taller ones--some of them anyway--are so top heavy that they fall over.  When I find one of these as I walk, I carry it to the wild area, toss it in a promising place, and reap cosmos next year in the wild until frost.  Summer is in every bed as I stroll the Acres, and, as mentioned, in all the planters as well.
     Fall is here.  The calender says so.  The cold rains and the winds have de-leafed many of the trees--particularly the nut trees and the maples.  The dogwoods are half and half--maroon.  The forsythia, brilliant yellow blooms in spring, are dark maroon as well--even darker than the dogwoods--in autumn leaf.  The pin oaks are brilliant red.  The red buds, willows, and pear trees are as green as ever.  Contrast is everywhere I look.  And the fun part--dare I say joyous--is to scuffle along amidst the fallen leaves propelling them into the air and wishing I had the energy to rake them into a pile for "diving."  (One dive would put me in traction for months, but it's fun to remember the "good old days."  Shouldn't they be called the "good young days"?)  I'm even tempted to kick the piles of newly laid black mulch dotting the lawn like blotched eye shadow.
     Winter, of course, is in the barrenness of those trees that have lost their coats of leaves.  A stark beauty.  The old dead sentinel by the pond fits in again.  On the barberries, hawthorn, dogwood, and half de-leafed crab apples the berries already stand out waiting for their white winter coats of snow.  You can bet the birds have their eyes on them as well.  And, as I walk, winter is in the air.  Chilling winds reach down to the bones.  My baseball hat grabs on to a gust of wind and scampers away flip-flopping across the lawn joyous in its temporary freedom.  The robins are gathering for the trip South or, perhaps, discussing if they dare to brave the Ohio winter.  The goldfinch have faded.  The woodpeckers are bugling the alarm--cold is coming.  The last couple of days the cold rain felt as if it should have been snow.
     Walking Iten's Acres in October is exhilarating.  Each of the seasons seems to have come together for a beauty contest.  And the winner is . . .

You'll have to choose.  I love all four.