Sitting on the fallen log of what once was a great standing oak, I take in the smells, sights, and sounds of the woods surrounding me. I can hear the wind rustling the leaves as it whips around the branches of the over-story. Looking up I can see a towering white oak with leaves of deep oranges and reds as if it were lit on fire. Its bright colors bring me a feeling of warmth on the cold autumn day. I sit there listening to the birds talking to each other, their songs bring a blanket of calm as they drown out the sounds of the cars passing by. I have noticed the drastic change in leaf color, leaves that were just barely yellow the last time I was here are now a deep orange or stark yellow. The underbrush is littered with yellows and browns from leaves that have fallen off the trees.
