Day 37 – Yellow Woods

YellowWood2

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
-Robert Frost
I managed a walk in Lithia Park this morning before the rain set in. I have to say the colors were amazing and the reflections in the lower duck pond took my breath away. I went with a painterly treatment and texture effect on this one and it immediately put me in mind of one of my all time favorite poems… probably because it was introduced to me by one of my favorite teachers, ’round about 4th or 5th grade.

Day 36 – Books and Bakery

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There is no Frigate Like a Book

There is no Frigate like a Book 
To take us Lands away 
Nor any Coursers like a Page 
Of prancing Poetry – 
This Traverse may the poorest take 
Without oppress of Toll – 
How frugal is the Chariot 
That bears the Human Soul –
– Emily Dickinson
I was feeling more painterly today and came across this image taken in Vermont. It had a lot of power lines in the original so I gave it the full Photoshop treatment. And what better combination than books and a bakery, and a poem by Emily Dickinson.

Birch Trees

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Eating Together

In the steamer is the trout   
seasoned with slivers of ginger, 
two sprigs of green onion, and sesame oil.   
We shall eat it with rice for lunch,   
brothers, sister, my mother who will    
taste the sweetest meat of the head,   
holding it between her fingers   
deftly, the way my father did   
weeks ago. Then he lay down   
to sleep like a snow-covered road   
winding through pines older than him,   
without any travelers, and lonely for no one.
-Li-Young Lee
So, today it was more important to visit my Mom than do photography. It was also more important to work on my photo book from New England. So I have selected a photo from the day I was working on. We traveled to Crawford Notch, of the premiere leaf peeping areas of New Hampshire. As you can see the leaves were not quite ready for peeping but there were a few reds showing through. I also had a hard time finding a poem today so when I found this companion poem to the one from yesterday I thought, “Well, why not, he’s a good poet.”

Day 29 – Maple Leaf

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Autumn Movement

I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.

The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman,
the mother of the year, the taker of seeds.

The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes, new beautiful things
come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind, and the old things go,
not one lasts.

-Carl Sandburg

I have officially reached the point in the project where I just want to quit. I have better things to do, I’m still trying to get caught up from my vacation, there are too many demands on my time, etc. etc. Today I almost spaced it out my resistance was so high. But don’t worry, I’ll get over it. Many places I still want to go and photograph. I just have to carve out some time in my schedule. Maybe next week. This image by the way is from the archives of New England. I did the processing today and that counts. Just can’t get into the habit of doing it every day.

Day 28 – Barn

Barn2w

Let Evening Come

Let the light of late afternoon 
shine through chinks in the barn, moving   
up the bales as the sun moves down. 
Let the cricket take up chafing   
as a woman takes up her needles   
and her yarn. Let evening come. 
Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned   
in long grass. Let the stars appear 
and the moon disclose her silver horn. 
Let the fox go back to its sandy den.   
Let the wind die down. Let the shed   
go black inside. Let evening come. 
To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop   
in the oats, to air in the lung   
let evening come. 
Let it come, as it will, and don’t   
be afraid. God does not leave us   
comfortless, so let evening come. 

 

-Jane Kenyon

 

Normally, I go out and collect photos and then try to find a poem to fit the one I choose. This afternoon I had the poem in mind and thought of the barn down the street. I wasn’t too happy with the sky so I blended in one also taken this evening but from a different angle.  Then a few textures and now it kind a fits what I had envisioned though still not quite as poignant and image as Jane creates with her words.

Day 26 – Blackberry Leaves

Blackberry Leaf

August

When the blackberries hang
swollen in the woods, in the brambles
nobody owns, I spend

all day among the high
branches, reaching
my ripped arms, thinking

of nothing, cramming
the black honey of summer
into my mouth; all day my body

accepts what it is.  In the dark
creeks that run by there is
this thick paw of my life darting among

the black bells, the leaves; there is
this happy tongue.

Mary Oliver

Today’s camera walk turned up these beautiful gold and russet blackberry leaves. I am beginning to despair of finding enough autumn poems to get me through the 100 days without boring myself to tears. So, I made an executive decision that the poems do not have to be about autumn. And after all don’t golden blackberry leaves in October evoke the joy of picking and eating ripe blackberries in August?

Day 24 – Fenway Park

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Along Came Ruth

You step up to the platter
And you gaze with flaming hate
At the poor benighted pitcher
As you dig in at the plate.
You watch him cut his fast ball loose,
Then swing your trusty bat
And you park one in the bleachers-
Nothing’s simpler than that!

– Ford Frick

I made it home last night about 1:30 eastern time and woke up bright eyed and bushy tailed at 5:30 Pacific time. Now jet lag is starting to set in in earnest so I thought a newly created image from the New England files would fit the bill. And of course Baseball is also an important part of Autumn.

Day 21 – Church Steeple

Church_Steeple

Vermont

Twisting roads through green speckled hills
Red barns that dot a summer long gone
Skiers seeking perennial winter thrills
In woodlands deep and silently strong

From here to Newhart and Frost they go
To a spirit of Yankee grace and solitude
Where people in tone pleasantly speak
And show God their eternal gratitude

It is a long road that I’ve often taken
When my mind must gain peace from want
And leave my troubles behind forsaken
As I cross that brook into green Vermont 

-C.A. Morrow

Today we drove south from Burlington to the small town of Grafton via route 100. I vowed to come back to Vermont on my own to photograph the barns and the covered bridges and the church steeples. Maybe I will start spending my summers in Vermont.

Day 20 – Round Barn

RoundBarn

Autumn dream of a Country Road

Autumn’s dream of a country road
Where houses are few and moving slowed.
Leaves are turning gold_ red_ burgundy.
Inside a warm home apples are candy.
In a barn or cellar cold winter foods quickly stowed
Against winter’s coming and inches snowed.
Autumn dreams of snuggling nights when windy
Breeze carries tune;close by snacks_ hot chocolate handy.

                          -Sara Kendrick

This round red barn is just one of the many buildings preserved at the Shelburne Museum. Another good reason to return to Vermont. All manner of art, folk art, crafts, quilts, and yes, buildings were collected by an heiress in the early 20th century and are now available for viewing at this 45 acre museum.