“To reach a port we must set sail –
Sail, not tie at anchor
Sail, not drift.”
― Franklin D. Roosevelt
We’ve been enjoying “wicked good” weather here on the coast of Maine. This put me in mind of a conclusion I came to while working as a weather forecaster. There really is no such thing as fall or spring weather. It’s just winter and summer duking it out. Summer has certainly been winning but it looks like winter may get in a few good licks soon, at least in terms of cooler temperatures.
All Around the pumpkin patch
Summer yawns at rest,
Autumn kaleidoscopes in
Ominous beauty.
– Robert Dufresne
After another hard day of touristing I have come the the conclusion that if anything happened in Boston between the revolutionary war and the birth of JFK they don’t want you to know about it. I was delighted to accidentally stumble across the Boston Public Market which is not on any of the tourist maps I have seen. And there, at last I finally found something suitably autumnal to photograph.
from Celebrating the Seasons of Life: Beltane to Mabon
The Wheel rolls more, and Autumn returns.
Cooler the rain; the Sun lower burns.
The coloring leaves presage the Year:
All things move into harvest’s sphere.
I vow to savor fruits first picked;
nor into grief shall I be tricked.
I vow to offer what once I spurned,
and face the Turning reassured.
– Asleen O’Gaea
And now the Autumnal Equinox is upon us. I’m busy trying to get ready for my trip to New England which starts tomorrow so I decided to make a quick tour of my neighbors flower beds. I got some nice sunflower shots but what speaks of September more than Asters? I’m not sure what is going to happen tomorrow as I am boarding a plane before sunrise and don’t get to my destination until after sunset. Hoping to find something autumnal on display at one of the three airports I get to visit, otherwise I’ll be reaching into the archives of the past 10 days. In any case don’t look for an update until evening.
Autumn
Earthy scented mornings
Thinly trailing mist
Acorns drop from weary trees
Yellow, red and russet frees
Leaves from branches, gently falling
Earth by coloured carpet kissed
Frosty, starlit evening
Palely shining moon
– Ann Shaw Griffiths
The current love of my life is this oak tree that stands near the Bear Creek Greenway off Suncrest Road in Talent. I walk by it nearly every day and occasionally I visit it with my camera. The acorns are still green as are most of it’s leaves but a few are beginning to drop, helped along by the wind we had the other day. I expect I will be visiting it regularly in the next 91 days.
Sunflowers
Good morning world.
After the deluge of yesterday I am sun-kissed once again.
Look out of the window.
Two gardens up stand sunflowers.
Heads the size of dinner plates.
Seems rather late this summer.
Late in coming.
For their gifts to be pasted to the sky.
They stand in a sort of floppy gestures.
Trying to support their heavy heads.
They remind me on this autumn morn with blazing sun.
That summer’s almost gone!
– Olivia Kent
With a forecast of 90% chance of rain I thought it wise to plan to work in the studio today. Though as it turns out I haven’t seen more than a few raindrops this morning. But I have been quietly gathering props for a day such as this including some small pumpkins and a bouquet garnered from the growers market yesterday. I also had some new textures to try out so had some fun with this one anyway.
Japanese maple
she sits paused in morning’s light
a breathless… haiku
– Malabu
Today I took a camera walk in Lithia Park. It tried to rain on me but I persisted. I actually found more color than I expected though I think we are a few weeks away from the raging glory that can be seen in the Park toward mid to late October. This Japanese Maple in the Japanese garden had more color than most of the trees.
The Blue Jay
No brigadier throughout the year
So civic as the jay.
A neighbor and a warrior too,
With shrill felicity
Pursuing winds that censure us
A February day,
The brother of the universe
Was never blown away.
The snow and he are intimate;
I ‘ve often seen them play
When heaven looked upon us all
With such severity,
I felt apology were due
To an insulted sky,
Whose pompous frown was nutriment
To their temerity.
The pillow of this daring head
Is pungent evergreens;
His larder — terse and militant —
Unknown, refreshing things;
His character a tonic,
His future a dispute;
Unfair an immortality
That leaves this neighbor out.
– Emily Dickinson
Today I took to one of my favorite neighborhoods for a camera walk. Ashland’s Railroad District is an eclectic mix of businesses and older homes. There are always interesting things to photograph in shop windows and on front porches. There are textures of old wood and rusty metal, flowers blooming, gracious tree lined streets. But today I was only half a block into it when this fellow showed up and perched in a tree where I was contemplating whether the dead leaves were autumnal enough. I knew immediately I had the days image, but I took the walk anyway and came home with many other treasured shots: The hood ornament of an old car shot through a chain link fence, dahlias, zinnias, and crepe myrtle, maple leaves, a glass pear, an old gas pump, a cut out of humpty dumpty, a garden gnome, and a statue of Buddha holding a seashell and, of course, I can never walk by the Coca-Cola sign on the side of the Peerless Hotel without taking at least one picture.
Every year we have been
witness to it: how the
world descends
into a rich mash, in order that
it may resume.
And therefore
who would cry out
to the petals on the ground
to stay,
knowing as we must,
how the vivacity of what was is married
to the vitality of what will be?
I don’t say
it’s easy, but
what else will do
if the love one claims to have for the world
be true?
So let us go on, cheerfully enough,
this and every crisping day,
though the sun be swinging east,
and the ponds be cold and black,
and the sweets of the year be doomed.
This may not be the most beautiful image I shot today. But I knew I was going to the rose garden this morning and could not get this poem out of my head. Who would ask the petals on the ground to stay? I tried shooting petals on the ground but I could not quite capture the feeling. But I thought this faded rose losing its petals did. I tried processing it as a black and white but I liked the little bits of pink and the aged yellow look so ended up adding a couple of textures instead to emphasize the mood.
September
The golden-rod is yellow;
The corn is turning brown;
The trees in apple orchards
With fruit are bending down.
The gentian’s bluest fringes
Are curling in the sun;
In dusty pods the milkweed
Its hidden silk has spun.
The sedges flaunt their harvest,
In every meadow nook;
And asters by the brook-side
Make asters in the brook.
From dewy lanes at morning
the grapes’ sweet odors rise;
At noon the roads all flutter
With yellow butterflies.
By all these lovely tokens
September days are here,
With summer’s best of weather,
And autumn’s best of cheer.
But none of all this beauty
Which floods the earth and air
Is unto me the secret
Which makes September fair.
‘T is a thing which I remember;
To name it thrills me yet:
One day of one September
I never can forget.
– Helen Hunt Jackson (1830-1885)
I have been neglecting my morning walks because I have been so excited about getting out to photograph in the morning light and before the wind picks up. So today I decided to just make it a camera walk. I found many interesting things to photograph but I especially liked these milkweed seeds. I had photographed milkweed bursting forth from pods at North Mountain Park the other day but the Morning Glories won the day so I was happy to have a chance to bring some milkweed seeds into the mix.