October is one of my favorite months. This year we were blessed with a lovely fall. August was wet and rainy. Forecasters started giving us menacing warnings about El Nino and what a terrible winter we were going to have. As September warmed up and dried out, so did the forecasters, they changed their minds and said maybe El Nino would bring warmth but lots of snow. I've heard that weather forecasting is a good occupation. It must be, where else can you be wrong 50 percent of the time and still be doing a good job?

October brings a circus of colors, reds, orange, greens and yellows. No wonder Ringling Brothers, Barnum and Baileys' Circus comes to town every October. We had circuses that came to town when I was in La Junta. How exciting they were. Even if they were small they were spectacular to me.

As Indian summer blooms I feel like a child again looking forward to the excitement of a circus parade. The mornings and evenings are cool and sleeping is good but the days are warm.

I must admit that Colorado doesn't have the colors you find in the east. Autumn in the rolling hills of Iowa is especially beautiful. I remember when I was in high school and rode on a very small school bus. As we came over a hill there in front of us was a display as exciting as hot dogs and cotton candy. We don't have that many colors in Colorado but our yellows, oranges and greens are still as colorful as a sparkling circus wagon.

Little squirrels like small tight rope walkers scamper on the frosted, stooped sunflowers next door, holding the seeds carefully in their tiny hands. The bird band warms up their instruments on a perch by their feeder under a yellow canopy of branches.

Leaves are starting to fall from the trees. My grandson Ronnie as he sees the trees shedding says the leaves are broken. Piles of autumn colors coax neighborhood kids to jump like acrobats into the crisp, fallen leaves. The fragrant smell of burning leaves seems to float back over the years.

Now the flowers are dressed like tiny bright clowns, but soon they will get kissed by the frost and will take off their good clothes. Bright bushes look like red and white circus tents.

I love colors, radiant circus colors and cheerful, multicolored flowers, but to my regret I'm not blessed with a green thumb. When I was a child I begged flowers from the neighbors. Mrs. Scantlin, who lived two houses down the block, had orange Nasturtiums that smelled like a heavenly perfume. She was always so generous and shared her flowers with me.

One day this summer two little girls came up to the porch where I was sitting. They asked if they could pick some of my flowers. I had to tell them no, but my conscience hurt as I remembered when I was young.

I almost ran after those little girls to tell them "You can pick my artificial flowers" but I knew it just wouldn't be the same. They don't look as good or smell as enchanting as those precious flowers I got from the neighbors when I was a little girl.