Autumn comes to the Catskills

It’s a flirtation of wild asters and jewelweed and bawdy goldenrod. The sky is as blue as the Madonna’s robe and the sun is hot, but wake up early the next morning, and dew has dampened that tablecloth you left on the patio table. The cicadas still thrum in late afternoon, but you notice the songbirds are silent. Silent and gone . . .


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