Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness

Ours is not the Autumn of Keats, to say the least, and "pecans" should be substituted here:

To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweek kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease, . . .

With us still are all the butterflies and hummingbirds, along with a fourth flush of bloom from the oxblood lilies, some in strange places, courtesy of squirrel work. Now the squirrels are too busy eating pecans, and planting them also, to be digging up and re-arranging our flowers.