A crisp November wind swirled about me this morning as I walked from the parking lot into the office. Leaves scuttled in all directions: first this way, then that. Large crumply tan leaves of the great plane trees (here at the southwestern edge of the Great Plains?) littered the roadway. On the sidewalk were lots of ash leaves--their color a subtle blend. An underpainting of something I struggle to name--pale ochre? a mustard pastel? Over that washes of rust and faded lime. Very rich and wonderful in all its complexity and gradations. The non-bearing plums boasted their individuality. One is a motley of greens, gold, and reddish-orange; the next a shower of gold (brace yourself Danae); and the one beyond them still green, though it is fading toward yellow. All of it lovely... and it feels so good to tighten one's jacket in the cooler air.
Photo is from January 2003 in California, not November 2007 in New Mexico but I love the sun glowing through the blood-red liquidambar leaf against the clear blue sky.