The Day Before

These images, 

the last of the sycamore leaves, 

were formed by the rain 

and mud on the drive outside 

my apartment. 

Later, another rain will wash

away this last bit of fall, 

leading the way

into winter 

Sneaked In

I woke up early this morning to the sounds of thunder 

overhead and rain splashing against my windows.

It was a welcome sound because we've been a bit short 

of rainfall lately, but when I looked out the

front window, I saw that fall had sneaked in; the trees showed 

yellow against the dark gray of the storm clouds.

Nekkid

What I enjoy most about this picture is the bright blue 

edging around the leaf, created by the sky's 

reflection in the water.

I went out today, camera in my pocket, as usual,

but the day was gray all around, leaves

matted into brown carpets on the sidewalks.

The poor trees, tall as ever in the park,

looked as though they were huddled together,

their limbs shivering in the chilly breeze

from their nekkidness.

Cold and Wet Day, I'm Inside

Leaves are given their beauty by nature, 

they change color, fall into pleasing compositions,

 attracting sequins and light to emphasize

all their best features. 

Rainy Days

After a  summer of interminable, unseasonable heat 

and very little rainfall, the autumn has ushered 

in clouds with the precipitation we should have gotten 

three months before. The drought is reflected 

in the prices at the grocery; the bacon shortage is because

the corn drops died, burned up in the heat of  the sun, 

and farmers could not afford to feed their piggies.

The first rain was a deluge, the ones we're getting

now are light, steady, just what we need to soak the ground

 This shrub was cut back, but is responding like 

it is spring, producing new growth, holding large drops

of rain as if to cherish its existence.

Autumn Equinox

I like ornamental grasses. During the spring and summer 

they create a nice, natural fence. On rainy days

the rain hangs like baubles from the slender leaves. 

Now that the summer has ended, the grasses 

curl in sinuous spirals, like long hair 

gone all frizzy with the humidity.

Oh, Them Golden Colors!

Okay, autumn may be menopausal -- 

sunny or gloomy, hot or cold, generous or really witchy -- 

but every once in a while there's a glimpse of real beauty to be found. 

Ya gotta look close and real fast 'cause it could change 

with the direction of the wind, Poof! leaving you with bare, icy branches. 

(There'a a pill for that! Please, take it!)

For Love of the Custard and the Art of the Splat

Okay, I'll give - it's now autumn, time to drag out the pictures 

of pumpkins and their kin. I took these photos a month ago 

when the weather was still warm and I was more 
interested in lemonade than in cider.

With Thanksgiving now about three weeks away, 

it's time to get my punkin' on, to get my supplies together for

pumpkin custard and squash soup. Last year this time, there was 

a nationwide shortage of pumpkin pulp; there was none to be found, 

the grocery shelves were bare, bereft of pumpkin.

 Along with everyone else who hadn't shopped well ahead

of the holiday, I had to do without my favorite

pumpkin delicacies.  I suffered from a severe 
lack of squash-based food. 

Not this year. The pumpkin, nutmeg, brown sugar, and vanilla

have been stockpiled, awaiting the eggs, cream and broth 

that will turn them into my favorite treats.

But while the men retire to the family room to watch 

football games, and the women participate in our annual crafts event,

 I will be eagerly awaiting the Discovery Channel

telecast of the 25th Annual World Championship Punkin' Chunkin'.

While the competition itself will be held this coming weekend at

Bridgeville, Delaware, the highlights and finals will be televised 

Thanksgiving evening. I am all a-tingle.

FIRE IN THE HOLE!!!

  

Psychedelic, Man!

Around here, the oak trees generally just turn brown in the fall.

This year, this tree got the message for the edges of its leaves

to stop getting chlorophyll, but the inner parts are still a bit green. 

The result is this fiery oak, looking like it was dressed by Peter Max.

Wooo hoo! After a week of rain and gloom, we get a tree party!

And it's dressed for outdoor work --
safety orange and safety yellow.
Do your eyes hurt yet?

Kandinsky in Speedway

"Colour is the keyboard, the eyes are the harmonies, 

the soul is the piano with many strings. 

The artist is the hand that plays, touching one key or another, 

to cause the vibrations in the soul."

-Wassily Kandinsky

I dunno, there's something about these pictures 

that remind me of Kandinsky's paintings. 

Whether it's the splashes of color 

intersected with bold streaks of black, 

or just the above quote, I can't say.

All I know is that as I wander around, looking up at the trees, 

I am filled with an almost giddy delight.

Music for the eyes. 

That's good enough for me.

Color for a Gray Day

These pictures are only about a week old, 

taken on a sunny day when the temperatures were in the high 70s.

Umph. Not any more. We're being treated to about four days 

of showers and the accompanying gloom and chill. 

It's gray: unbleached, undyed and achromatic. I am just thrilled.

Most of summer was too hot to be outside for long and 

we didn't get enough rain. I rarely went without wearing a hat and sunscreen. 

Now, I'll go out wearing a hat and a nice cream to keep my skin

from drying out altogether -- from swoon to prune within a week's time.

I hate being cold and am already anticipating the winter solstice, 

after which the days again start to lengthen towards spring.

Gettin' Nekkid

Last week the trees were still wearing their leaves. 

A few of them had begun doing a slow strip tease,

their golden leaves floating through the air, 

scattering like feathers from a dancer's boa.

They bobbed and dipped in the sun, 

one last number before the intermission, 
when autumn sets the stage for winter.

This morning, the trees were bare, standing nekkid 

for all to see, their leaves in matted swirls on the ground.

The walnut tree across the street still has bits of

gold and green and feeds the happy squirrels 

that live in the tree next door.

I can't believe this squirrel let me get so close. 

I suppose it's because he was too involved in his

mast. Even the tree was kind enough to not throw a

walnut THONK! onto my head as I tried to take their pictures.

They sure did hit the ground

 around me hard, though.

Creekview

It was raining today -- the leaves were falling,

 pulled by the breezes from their trees.

I stopped by the creek, again looking for turtles.

While there, people crossed the bridge 

from the other side of the field.

I was gazing into the creek, looking for fish and turtles

as two men and a little boy passed behind me.

I was both amazed and dismayed that they did not stop

to take even a glance at a place I think is beautiful.

While I did not see any turtles, I did see jewel-like colors

in the leaves. Some of them had sunk to the bottom of the creek, 

where the water streamed over them in ripples faceted

by the rocks, accented by the sun. How could someone

not look, even for a little bit?

Another Textured Tuesday

The yellow leaves seemed to dance, 

swaying to the rhythm of the breeze. 

A final celebration of their summer 

before giving in to the coming winter.

I had to stand patiently, to watch them, 

waiting to take a picture of their dance, 

hoping they would pause just long enough,

bowing before they left their stage.

Plane As Day*

I allowed two hours Tuesday for my walk and used a route I know will take about that much time to cover. I stopped by the creek to look for turtles; there were none, possibly because the creek was too shallow. I crossed another portion of the Coke Lot to check out the old mulberry tree in yesterday's post, then went to look at the trees surrounding another of the parking lots.

The trees don't seem to show as much bright color as they did a year ago, but in many spots they are beautiful, nonetheless. I enjoy the way the sunlight accents the color of the yellow leaves and the tiny bits of red, but I think I enjoy the way the trees' trunks undulate and define the positive and negative space of the picture even more.

 

The sycamore tree seems to be holding onto summer. It's leaves are still green and standing under the tree was like entering a good watercolor; clear and liquid with defined edges, a master of the technique bringing the viewer into the warmth and smell of the sycamore "plane as day".

*With a small bow to Small Glass Planet  which introduced me to an alternative name for the sycamore tree.

Sun-Sparkled Autumn

Last fall the trees were so beautiful. 

I didn't have to leave home to see autumn color because it was 

beautifully expressed within a mile of my house.

Here, it looks as though I'm in the middle of a woods 

when I'm really standing in a parking lot across the street from the

Indianapolis Motor Speedway. There are houses just on the other side,

screened by the trees. I remember standing there, mesmerized

by the way the sun reflected off the leaves, 

sequins in the middle of the day.  

Apples in the Rain

It was a chilly, rainy day when I saw this beautiful apple growing on a tree.  

The rain was dripping off the fruit. It was a picture asking to be taken.
I was surprised to see the large apples shared the tree with a lot 
of much smaller fruit. I looked but could not find a second tree. 

I can only assume that a cutting of the one type of apple 

was grafted onto a tree of a different type, though same species.

Really, I have no idea other than that.

Tree Poodle

There's supposed to be a reason for it, one I don't quite understand, but each year some of the trees in the neighborhood get a trim job. Their limbs are cut back, leaving only little poufs at the ends. While I enjoy the way the limbs divide the sky, with splashes of sunlit leaves for accent,

I prefer to stand amid these curtains of color,

 where the sun enters between the leaves, 

creating shadows of themselves, on themselves.

A Change In the Weather

Each fall, I make a point of walking by these bushes 

to see if the leaves are the correct color, and have arranged themselves 

into a pose that would make a nice picture. 

So far, this is as close as I've gotten.

Sometimes, the yellow leaves hang in the gray weather, 

like a solitary heart waiting for an absent lover until,

 too cold and dripping with rain like a single tear,

it drops away, it's hopes turned to winter. 

Blue Skies and Space Junk

 Holy Flyin' Cosmos!

The sky is a nice blue, the sunlight is bouncing off little puffy clouds, 

a gentle breeze is leading the leaves on the trees in a slow dance. 

After a blistering summer the temperature is finally tolerable.

Uhhh ... Whut? 

You say a satellite is burning on re-entry into the atmosphere and is expected to break into twenty-six pieces as it crashes in all its conflagrated glory somewhere upon this precious Earth? As big as a bus, you say? 

Is that, like, one of those big customized rock star cruisers, 

a city bus or the infamous short bus?

Shall I put Cat and Turtle in their crates and go sit in the park for a while? 

What do you mean you don't know and can't tell me

when and where it's gonna land?

A communications satellite has gone incommunicado?

Can you tell me what it looks like? NO?! Beautiful.

The last time I saw "space junk" of any note it was hanging 

off a middle-aged man who delighted in doing the "moon walk" 

as he danced naked across our living room floor. 

Which brings to mind another concern: wardrobe. 

A giant flaming charcoal briquette may come crashing into

my bedroom some time during the next twelve hours 

and I gotta have the right outfit. What should a grown woman wear 

if she's anticipating a re-entry?

I won't light any candles; given the circumstances they'd be redundant.

Hey, NASA, just tell UARS to bring a nice bottle of wine.

I'll make breakfast.