On my afternoon walk the other day, the sun glistened off the backs of the sheep grazing in the nearby pasture, giving them the eerie glow of iridescent haloed silhouettes. They barely acknowledged me as they stuck to their lunch – the last of the season’s green grass.

It’s fall in the heartland – that magical time of year when gold and orange take over the landscape.

I had a friend move here several years ago from the western plains. She commented she was ready for the colorful trees, but she had no idea there would be so much color at ground level: mums, flaming bushes, huge orange spheres of pumpkin on every doorstep.

If you look closely, you will also see bits of blue and purple in the road ditch as the stray clover or cornflower holds on to the autumn warmth. We’ve had a freeze, but not a long freeze, so the grass is still green, the garden is still offering up a fall radish or two, and the heartiest of prairie flowers are still claiming their right to be part of the color wheel.

When it comes to fall color, it is the trees, of course, that claim center stage – though even they would appear paled if not for the background of the rich cobalt October sky. The October sky over Iowa on a clear day is one of the unsung pictorial heroes – a piercing color of blue.

The trees are turning one by one this year. That’s not always the case. Some years, the leaves go out in a blaze of glory. This year, it’s bit by bit. Some are done, down to their bare winter twigs. Others still green, determined to hang on until forced to adjust to the change of season.

Whether they show it or not, the change is coming. There’s an ancient evergreen down the street dripping pinecones. The flowering crab (also ancient from the house before mine) in my backyard is laden with red berries. And I nearly twisted my ankle on an acorn in the middle of the street.

The leaves dropping by bits has kept all but the most serious yard keepers from having to work up much of a sweat raking – an advantage of the howling prairie wind as much as nature’s timing. Lawnmowers are still running, but less frequently now, serving double duty as grass trimmers and leaf mulchers. But there are still enough underfoot to produce the unmistakable crunch of footprints in the leaves. One can be two blocks away and identify the sound; usually about the time kids are trekking home from school.

Temps are still warm – hovering most days just shy or bold of 70; 40s at night with an occasional dip into the freeze. With the sun shining bright and the jackets still hanging on the hook, it’s hard to imagine we will soon be the land of ice and snow.

Aside from an enthusiastic Facebook post reminder from the Christmas junkies, most don’t want to think about it. There is still too much to do this fall. Harvest isn’t over yet. The kids’ Halloween costumes are still in the package. The Thanksgiving turkey isn’t even bought yet. And I’m not sure where I put the snow shovel when I cleaned out the garage this summer.

So we’ll eat fresh, crisp apples and dream up new ways to use pumpkin spice for another month or so. We’ll leave the windows open during the day and run the furnace just at night. I’ll still take long afternoon walks past the sheep grazing in the pasture.

It will be winter soon enough in this four-seasons-on-the-prairie I call home. For now, I’ll enjoy fall.