"Just about now, I remember that the trees on this farm will be bare for the next six months. It always comes as a surprise."

Verlyn Klingenborg writes about the rural life in essays for The New York Times. In this week's offering, he talks about the change of seasons on his farm and about how he is still in August, though he can feel January creeping up behind him.

Those of us who love the mild autumns of the Mid-Atlantic still grieve the loss of summer because we know that winter is at hand and it is a dark, long, sometimes sad time.