One of the weird things about living in northeastern Kansas is the trees. Y'see, being a prairie and all, there really aren't any native species of tree here. But settlers aggressively planted trees in the 1800s in order to have future building material at hand, and they weren't too picky about where the trees came from originally.

Now, when a tree turns colors depends on where it has adapted to grow. Some are optimized for shorter growing seasons, so squeeze every last day out of the year they can, while others are less efficient and drop their leaves at the first hint of waning days. When you have all native growth, all the trees in the area tend to go at about the same time. But here, the crazy-quilt of transplanted trees from species both northern and southern turn colors in staggered waves throughout the fall.

On the minus side, this means you never quite get that glorious "the hills are on fire" look. On the plus, a single storm never robs you of the entire leaf-color-change season. It knocks out the current wave, but there's likely still trees that are green and hearty, waiting to turn red and orange and yellow next week when the storm is a memory.
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