The few leaves left on the oaks are making dry rustling sounds in the wind. Soon the snow will arrive and bring down the last of the leaves. There are no more acorns or other nuts worth gathering; the mice and squirrels and chipmunks have gathered the last of them and hidden them away.
The stream has not yet frozen, except for the quiet pools along the banks where a white layer of ice has formed. The young mice like to scamper out on it, but the older mice know it's only the thinnest of skins, and if they crack through or slip off the edge, the cold water will make short work of them.
A flock of blackbirds passed through the other day. Thousands of them made dark clouds that shifted as they flew. When they roosted in the woods, even the crows complained about the noise! Imagine crows complaining about noise!
Everyone is preparing for snow. It will be here soon; if not tomorrow, then soon after. I can smell it on the northwest wind.