There's no cure better for jet lag than a jog through the cool, autumnal mists, with the sun slowly breaking through the clouds. I've come back to what looks like the beginnings of a spectacular leaf-show. I can't remember the early flashes of red in the maple tree on our front lawn and on the trees that border the creek, ever being so vivid.
Other trees are turning yellow, others gold and the tough little asters are still hanging in there, fringing the roads and carpeting our garden trails. It's quiet too. No lawn-mowers, just the small thumps of falling acorns.
Up our lane this morning I spied our wild turkey family, or maybe their friends and relations. They appear to have deserted us for some neighbours who recently moved down south and have put their house up for sale. But sadly not many takers around here. This isn't Knightsbridge. I saw the turkeys picking their way through the grass, perhaps knowing they wouldn't be disturbed. Autumn in Western New York is all the more beautiful for being so short-lived. And you never know when the trees will be at their peak - people signing on for expensive leaf-peeping trips to New England might well be disappointed. We don't get coach-parties here but our colours are just as good without the tourists.