My friend Will and I took a long walk in the Blue Hills Reservation today. It was a cool grey day with low clouds that sometimes showed little bits of blue sky. We stood at the top of Great Blue Hill and could barely see Mount Wachusett through the moisture-laden air.

Looking down from the top of Great Blue Hill, we saw a long line of reddening maples marking out the course of the little stream through Fowl Meadow. Near the top of Boyce Hill, Will noticed that the bracken ferns were brown, as if they had been bitten by an early frost. We walked out the boardwalk into the Atlantic cedar bog on the edge of Ponkapoag Pond, and saw several small maples where every leaf had turned scarlet; and a number of the high-bush blueberries sported deep crimson leaves.

Walking back to the car, we both complained about how short the days are getting.