Overnight rain, like castanets beating a rhythm, lulls me to sleep. By morning, when the mist lifts briefly, the high peaks are frosted white. The aspens, still green a few days ago, rapidly turn golden. Cold paints the understory of the forest in shades of russet, sienna and umber. At midday, three young bucks stroll into the garden to munch on the delphiniums. Each fall, when hunting season approaches, deer seem to know to come closer to the house. Do their mothers somehow transmit this knowledge before they head out on their own? I walk onto the back deck with my camera. Two of my visitors amble away, but the third stands his ground. I intend to snap a photo and then clap my hands to shoo him from the remaining blooms. But, his soft gaze and slowly twitching ears mesmerize. For a moment - two - we both stand in wonder. Finally, with a flick of his tail, he moves slowly away. I've enjoyed my gardens through the too-short summer. Now, I'll share the flowers with the forest creatures during the brief fall. The encroaching snow reminds us all of lengthy winter's steady approach.