It ended.The indian summer. Fortunately I could gather it's colors on the last day in a glass.
Then I felted this bag white and I spilled the colors over the white bag.
It took a night for the colors to get into the fibers. (I saw it. I was sitting there the whole time by the light of a flickering autumn ladybug.)
This dying method is described in the book "How to Dye Wool With Seasons and Moods".
Don't start searching for it. It's not on the market now.
You get a fall poem instead:
Leaves by Elsie N. Brady
How silently they tumble down
And come to rest upon the ground
To lay a carpet, rich and rare,
Beneath the trees without a care,
Content to sleep, their work well done,
Colors gleaming in the sun.
At other times, they wildly fly
Until they nearly reach the sky.
Twisting, turning through the air
Till all the trees stand stark and bare.
Exhausted, drop to earth below
To wait, like children, for the snow.