The tops of the pines trees are bowing toward earth: the large, dark pine cones have bent them over, so many, so big and heavy. The acorns make a crunchy carpet beneath the trees, a feast for squirrels who are plump, unable to stop themselves, and perhaps too heavy to escape the next car.  At the orchards, apples are clustered like grapes, each as round, bright and unblemished as the next. In the Berkshires, the foliage is so lush, almost tropical, changing the out linesof the hills, giving new depths of color and texture. Bears and birds can pick peacefully from the same berry bush - plenty for all. Word is that the mother bears are bearing triplets, and all surviving. No doubt in winter there will be roamers into backyards and downtowns. 

At home, the crowns of our maples have created bare patches below, where the sun was unable to penetrate. My husband prides himself on an unwatered lawn – still yielding moist, tender blades of grass.The blue hydrangeas of Cape Cod struggled under the dark skies of June, but those west of Boston have lately burst into rosey hued pom-poms - no longer the faded, papery blossoms so easily overlooked.

 There is an abundance this fall that I don’t recall for many years, if ever. The rain in June, they say, and the warmth of August. Or maybe it’s just my noticing it. My sister visited from South Carolina earlier this month; she was taken by the brightness of the potted flowers and those in border gardens: petunias, geraniums, roses; by this time in Charleston,the flowers have been baked with heat, the colors long faded from the brilliant blooms of spring.

 And maybe it's the the time I’ve spent with my elderly uncle, away from the details and routines of my everyday life, looking at the world through his eyes.

 All I can say is what a generous reprieve from the world of worry and frugality, lost savings and downturns in the market. Food, light,color and warmth: there is abundance everywhere.