Just a picture of Wild Roses I happened upon recently on a holiday weekend. One of the things I liked about them was how gracefully they are going about dying. Even with petals missing, leaves curling and changing colours and bare rosehips around, they still go dignified and gracefully to their demise. Fall is like that all around. Leaves dying, flowers wilting, trees becoming bare and stark against a fall sky, it does not pass soundlessly into the night. It goes out with a blaze of colour, rains down from the sky and carpets the earth, nurturing the soil in preparation for another spring. It all knows its not the end but really only a beginning. Really it is a beautiful thing.