Sumac are already turning red.
THE CHANGING OF SEASONS edges into Minnesota, ever so subtly.
You can see the changing of the landscape around this pond, the subtle changes in hues.
August marks the month of transition, of shifting from summer to autumn.
Beautiful black-eyed susans.
Of wildflowers in full bloom.
Milkweed, necessary for Monarh butterflies.
Milkweed pods will soon burst with seeds and fluff.
Milkweeds edge the trails and ponds at Faribault Energy Park.
Of blooming milkweeds and those heavy with pods.
Unidentified berries.
Of berries ripening.
A trail winds through Faribault Energy Park. This isn’t a quiet place because of the interstate. But it’s a place of natural beauty and mostly undiscovered (meaning never busy).
Evenings fall earlier and cool temps sharpen the air. Folks pull on sweatshirts and jeans to keep off the chill. The urge to get outdoors prevails. Backyard campfires blaze warmth.
Plums ripen despite a Japanese beetle infestation.
Crickets chirp. Squirrels scamper. And gardeners bustle to bring in the bounty. Preparing for winter.
Sumac
And, in the landscape, hues morph from the greens of summer to the softer, earthy hues and fiery reds and oranges of autumn.
In the light of the setting sun, cattails and grasses.
Cattails rise in swampland and tall grasses sway.
Randy and I laugh at our long-legged shadow selves.
At sunset, shadows lengthen, foreboding and dark. As if hinting at days ahead. The dark days of winter that draw us indoors to snuggle under fleece throws, to crave comfort foods, to shelter in place.
An unknown wildflower.
And this winter to wonder what lies ahead in the uncertainties of COVID-19.
This sign marks the entrance to Faribault Energy Park on Faribault’s north side and visible from Interstate 35. The wind turbine in the park landmarks this spot near the northbound lane of I-35.
Note: These photos were taken during a recent evening walk at the Faribault Energy Park.
© Copyright 2020 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
I like your word of shifting to replace changing. Your thoughts have been caprtured with photos. The lines feel poetic and seem ripe for a poem.
Sue, I deeply appreciate your thoughtful comment. Nature photos often inspire me to write with a poetic bend. The words flow with ease and rhythm.
Did you catch how the final unknown white flower photo mimics in some ways the spiky coronavirus?
I do look forward to fall, it’s my favorite time of the year (right next to my sencond favorite, winter) Sometimes I’m a little sad that it also means the end of out cabin season, I dont like closing down but it’s ok…God willing there will be more.
Wait a minute. I thought winter was your favorite season.
I understand your sadness about the shift in seasons as it relates to cabin closing.
…so not ready for fall yet…
nice photos though. 😉
Me either, although I love fall.