Warm weather has kept our leaves from turning, but it hasn’t kept them from falling. On my walk this morning I skittered across frost-slicked bridges dotted with clumps of wet leaves. The woods are shimmering in some places, but denuded in others.

The overall impression is of a gradual thinning and winnowing — as if the year, winding steadily to a close — is ferreting out the truly important from the superfluous. Trees can do without this foliage, so let it go.

Our summer annuals, they too are winding down. The begonias and impatiens are stalky and pinched. They may be gone entirely tomorrow if temperatures plunge as low as predicted.

What will be left? The essentials: trunk and limb and stone and house. Only the strong survive.