I am grateful for the reflection and absorption of the sunshine that leads to the spectrum of color in the fall.  Each leaf has its own story to tell.  Each leaf drops to the ground in its own way.  Releasing the season of growth leading us towards the still and quiet winter.  Migrants are flying over and through seeking warmth closer to the equator.  A Pee Wee is making an appearance today.  Hawks are on the hunt for the busy world of movement in preparation for the winter that will come.  The birds are done recovering from the birthing season, they have joined their guilds and are prepping for the winter.  The squirrels are busy eating all of our pecans - though they plant as many as they eat. 

This morning, as these words fall out of my heart I can feel winter in the breeze that is passing over my fingertips and I long for the cold dark winter.  The stillness and the stars.  The trees above me rain leaves of yellows and reds and browns.  A hawk glides easily on the warm thermals of air far above the trees.  A crow chases her unwilling to share this space with her.  The hawk is relatively unfazed by the annoyance of this single crow.

I wondered recently what the job of the crows are.  They seem to be everywhere and there seems to be more of them than other birds.  How do they fit into the story here in my neighborhood?  They aren't songbirds and they aren't predator birds..  I wonder whether it is because they work to keep the hawks out of the neighborhood?  Maybe the crows keep the neighborhood safe in the late fall and winter so the other birds just work around them.  Are they tolerated nest robbers?  Maybe they are the mobsters of the neighborhood, but they provide a service that the rest of the birds need to survive the winter? My mind just exploded and another layer of the story reveals itself.