It’s the height of the autumn season here in Western Massachusetts. We’re caught, Janus-fashion, looking back at the lushness of summer and anticipating the austerity of winter. But in-between we dwell in a landscape of brilliance and decay all at once. The corn is gone (alas) but pumpkins are everywhere:
Trees erupt in a final blaze of glory:
While already their fallen leaves carpet the ground:
Here among them is the cat who walks by himself, the beauty salon cat who may or may not answer to his name of Henry:
On a recent warm day we went for a walk in our beloved Look Park, and returned with a quiver full of mystery. Where will the arrow lead?
Who is about to follow it?
What do we find? Only an enigmatic pool —