by Carl Strang
Autumn progresses. Wandering the landscape, we notice signs large and small of preparations for the dry, cold winter season. Most obvious are the plants, of course. At Mayslake Forest Preserve, scattered prairie dropseed clumps have become yellow fountains.
The river bulrushes that filled the marsh basin when it lost its water at last are senescing.
The soundscape shifts as well, insect songs becoming fewer as the calls of sparrows and finches increasingly fill the airwaves. Can the first snowfall be far behind?