A grackle had settled on the marshy land by the stream, and it held itself just right in the sun to iridsce all over: purple, green, blue in vast stretches that entirely engulfed its base color of dingy black.
The new leaves are reddening the trees, not just in great swathes over the hillsides, but up close, when you look at one and not at them en masse. Peppered with yellow, and with orange that ranges from yellow to ruddy, all of it lending a fiery veil to the forest, not an opaque blanket like the autumnal leaves. Down in the valleys by the streams and the wet, the willows are yellow leaves with just a tinge of green. And the brush has put out new leaves, sprightly, bright, pale green, all the more striking when it rains, and their bark turns black with dampness, and so you have the contrast, almost as vivid as if the leaves were white.
And pools of water spreading across fields or forest before the earth drinks them up. One stand -- the trees all growing close together, so they had no low branches -- the silvery water spread so smoothly that seeing where the tree itself ended and its reflection began took a careful look, and inspections of symmetry.