A tree with red leaves is like an old man with gray hair. Likewise, my love for you was blue, but now it’s orange, and that’s a compliment.

flag” in camouflage, though you couldn’t see by looking at it. (I hide behind my patriotism, and I hide my patriotism among red, white, and blue foliage.)

Are ye the ghosts of fallen leaves, O flakes of snow, For which, through naked trees, the winds A-mourning go?

The faithless are surprised, that the faithful put no faith in them; the infidels are astounded that the wise do not put trust in them. After all we don’t entrust cement to grow abundant foliage.

If we hadn’t our bewitching autumn foliage, we should still have to credit the weather with one feature which compensates for all its bullying vagaries-the ice storm: when a leafless tree is clothed with ice...