I sat down on the cool yet slightly damp of the forest floor, feeling the week old fallen pine needles and the mixture of old and freshly fallen oak and maple leaves. I am surrounded by ferns and clumps of buckthorn. The cool air is brushing against my skin and causing a slight rustle to the soon to fall oak, maple and birch leaves. There is little biotic movement, with practically no bugs and the only animals I spotted were 4 squirrels and 1 chipmunk. I heard the calls of a few different birds, but could not identify what type. the bark on all the white birch trees is flaking off, with chunks of the bark littered around the trees. there is less calico aster, and the few that are left are dwindling. all the buckthorn saplings are still growing and look the same. there are almost double the fallen leaves covering the ground I am surrounded by, with at least half of the leaves looking freshly fallen. I watch at least 10 new leaves fall gracefully as the gusts of the wind tug them off the sugar maple I am staring up at. It’s at least 5 degrees cooler than it was last time I visited, and it’s much quieter as no one else can be heard. Last visit, the trail beside my spot had at least 4 visitors walk by, but today there were none. The ferns are starting to wither and look less green than last time I visited.
