A vision of the season marked by the flight of birds to warmer climes, and a riot of color that quickly fades to reveal the skeletons of the forest.

Like the leaves on the trees bursting forth in color and then showering the earth, the fields yield their bounty in a multitude of shapes and hues.

Home, hearth, harvest – past and present persist, a silent witness to the passage of time.

Remnants of an artist’s touch remain.

Their riot of color stripped away by wind and weather, the wooden sentinels stand dormant until Spring’s renewal.

T. Tougas