The Harbinger

It's happened here, and no wonder. The recent rain and chill have probably driven them to it. Or maybe it wasn't the weather at all. Maybe it's just their time.

Whatever the reason, the dogwood leaves have begun their march to extinction, their lovely russety turning. And berries have formed, their brightness a contrast to the subdued tone of the leaves.

I look at the dogwood a lot these days, since Copper likes to stand near it while we're outside. And it has become for me a harbinger of another season, one of burnished brightness and long, still nights.