by Nona Estrin
These lovely fall days must give way to rain! Today the spotted salamander pond is no longer just low, but virtually empty. I have never in 37 years seen it like this. Still, down at Bobolink Farm, the beaver ponds contain full resovoirs of water, conserved by these furry engineers in a time of drought. I make my way home, mouth crammed with sweet-tart wild purple grapes, their juicy bounty not hurt in the least by the dry summer.
And P.S. This is the time a hard frost may suddenly bring down the ginko leaves from the big tree on Barre Street … a spectacular sight according to all who have seen it.