Today I visited Centennial woods in the same location as previously. The weather was a cool 45 degrees with partially cloudy skies. There wasn’t any wind where I was, so despite sitting on the ground for a while, the only part of me that got cold was my hands and increasingly slow fingers.
While observing the forest, I began to hear rustling within the leaves and trees and caws from above. The days have begun to feel colder, but a few critters are still out and about. The rustling had belonged to that of a squirrel, while the caws had come from crows high up in the sky.
The area itself appeared different than when I had last been there. The ground was scattered in leaves and pine cones, and the trail was a slick layer of mud. The only green left came from the needles of Eastern White Pine, the woody ferns growing in the underbrush, and the Northern maples whom had just begun to change color.
