Those are "my" crabapple trees, which technically aren't mine. Some farmer planted this row of them a long time ago, when they still had hopes of making a life here. While the giant spruce still remains, the house, the barn, are long gone. Aspens are growing through the blown-off roof of a tin shed. Our neighbors still hay some of the 120 acres, but it is otherwise vacant. I still may harvest some of the abundant fruit for jelly. In my spare time. Which I have so much of these days.
The colors are changing by the hour as leaves fall. Maples and birches have pretty much given up, while aspens are glowing gold and tamaracks are starting to turn.
In a couple of weeks, too soon, it will be stark gray branches. But the crabapples will hang on to feed Bohemian waxwings in the middle of winter.