Early this morning I noticed all the bird feeders were empty and little birds were hopping arround and around the big feeder, checking each opening in the hopes of finding breakfast. So Katie and I headed out to refill three feeders. The sun was just up, tipping the trees in rosy light. The one remaining maple tree that still holds it’s leaves shone like a brilliant golden beacon against the other drab and leafless leaves behind it. As I poured seed into the largest feeder a few reamining birch leaves spun slowly down like drops of gold all around me. Katie sat patiently as I finished up, even though we could hear the finches in the branches above chriping restlessly. As I walked back into the house I glanced back and saw the feeder swarming with birds, each eager to find their place amid the falling gold that is the last vestiges of fall.