A melancholy evening, as the last of the gardens have been cut back and readied for Winter. Even the roadside Asters have declined in unison with the beginning of Milkweed pods drying to emit their parachutes. The Monarch butterflies that fed on their leaves all summer, also long dispersed. Bumblebees cling to dead flowers and my windows, in a dormant state of submission. The dog seems to sense the myriad of changes taking place and I wonder if he anticipates the coming of his improved chances at catching his arch enemy-the red squirrel, in the depths of winter snow.