And, no, I’m not talking about the Fall of Western Civilization and the collapse of the American government and the Second Civil War – although we most certainly can’t rule those things out, as batshit insane as that might be.
No, I’m talking about the season. Fall. Autumn.
We might be living in the middle of a gazillion acres of desert with dirt, tumbleweeds, Joshua trees, creosote, and the odd cactus, but inside the tract walls, in our front yards, mixed in with all of the rock and talm trees and “drought resistant landscaping,” they put a few oddball, water-sucking decorative trees. Our neighbor’s yard has a white birch. We (on the right) have a very nice maple tree.
Very, VERY FEW native maples found in the SoCal desert. Or anywhere else in SoCal. Maybe a few in the mountains. Maybe.
But here we have one and having spent formative years in the forests of Vermont, I’m loving this decorative addition to our yard. In two months in might be fully engulfed in yellows and reds and oranges. For now, there are a handful of pioneer leaves, hinting at the autumnal glories to come.
The Fall is coming!
We Love The Stars Too Fondly 