The last dead leaves of fall crackled underfoot, winter-crisp.

I guess I'm just feeling Septemberish," sighed Chester. "It's getting towards autumn now. And it's so pretty up in Connecticut. All the trees change color. The days get very clear―with a little smoke on the horizon from burning leaves. Pumpkins begin to come out.

Halloween creatures both friendly & gruesome peered out of the rustling leaves.

Falling leaves and flying birds, returning to their roots. Welcome Autumn!

Are ye the ghosts of fallen leaves, O flakes of snow, For which, through naked trees, the winds A-mourning go?

When the last leaf falls,
what will die within us?