I talk to the trees...

 

As we slip past Thanksgiving into the weeks preceding Hallowe'en, it becomes darker in the morning.  The sun is still hiding behind the horizon, as I set out in the half-light, and I'm a little startled to spot my shadow -- until I realize that the streetlights are still on.

The side street where I make my first turn has become a dim tunnel formed by the arches of the ancient shade trees standing sentinel on either side; they whisper silkily, as the hummingbirds click far above my head.  These will be the last trees to change colour, usually in early to mid-November.

Our native trees, the arbutus and Garry Oak, have been suffering for a while, but this past summer, the longer than usual drought and the truly alarming heat dome that struck us in mid-June, have taken their toll on all our shade-givers, particularly the older ones -- and we have lots of really old trees in our neighbourhood.

Experts say that the Pacific gales, which should be starting up soon, will cause extra damage this year to the weakened evergreens, oak, maple, and chestnuts.

"Are you okay?" I murmur to one enormous twisted trunk as I pass.

No reply.  Just the hiss of the morning wind in the leaves.