By some form of ‘luck’ we have gotten mutts in the hard squashes. Things that could be Hubbard or something type squashes. This year, the mutts are exceptionally pretty, this particular one being starry like. It makes me think of Don McLean’s “Vincent” song.
Starry, starry night
paint your palate blue and grey
look out on a summer’s day
with eyes that know that darkness in my soul…..
(a personal favorite song, though I prefer Josh Groban’s Version)
The cows are coming down. I’ve written about this in the past(The Magic of Bells in the Autumn), but I have to post it every year. Or talk about it. Or take pictures. It’s what makes the fall. This year I got a really good film. So enjoy that as well.
It is 7 months from spring, and only five months till spring, yet the cyclamen is blooming. Sometimes, after being dormant all summer, I think it gets so excited to have cooler, wet weather, that it decides to bloom again. These pale beauties came up a month after the Autumn Crocus. They are more white than pink, though there is the faintest touch of blush. They are lovely and clean.
Flower in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies,
I hold you hear, root and all, in my hand,
Little flower-but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, and all in all,
I should know what God and man is.
Flower in the Crannied Wall by Alfred, Lord Tennyson
The kale takes on an incredibly beautiful hue this time of year. The purples get deeper, the pinks brighter, the greens are mintier. And when that water droplet lands and holds in a perfect mirrored sphere, all the world is right. It’s even more right when I can actually get a good image of it. And due to the waxiness of kale, well droplets are just perfect. Color, form, clarity.
No, it’s not what you think. While we are still getting fresh strawberries ( I know, in October how can that be?!!!) what I’m talking about with Strawberry Red is the leaves. The leaves on the strawberry plants turn lovely shades of red this time of year. It looks like Christmas in the patch. I love the colors and it actually makes me hungry just looking at it. It’s so cheery.
There is beauty in death and dying, though I find it more so when it comes to plants. Living animals are a bit too morbid to go there. But the remains of a flower, just the sepals holding on to their former selves…. sheer magnificence. I like taking pictures of things up close that you might not notice. These are the remains of flowers, only about a centimeter and a half across, and honestly I can’t tell you what the flower was. But the creek bed (the part that is rarely under water) was covered; littered; with these. I like the tan colors….
The columbine is one of my favorite mountain flowers and even though spring is long gone and a long ways away, the plant still manages to put on a show with a plethora or rainbow colors on it’s leaves. I never paid attention to the color change till last year when I was amazed at the fall colors.
A river runs through
Rain. It means the start of winter. The start of cold, and damp, and wet. It also means the creek is running again. That might not sound like much, but for those in California, we know it means water. A life force that we cannot go without, but have been without in many places. For us where we live, it means our main water source is alive and running and no longer a concern as to how much water we can use. There is no restriction when all the water is running down our creek.
Today (or yesterday, I’m not sure, but since it rained an inch and a half yesterday… it might have been then) the creek is running. Full force and full of life. It’s a good day.
I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally,
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley. ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,……
I murmur under moon and stars
In brambly wildernesses;
I linger by my shingly bars;
I loiter round my cresses;
And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
The Brook ~ Alfred, Lord Tennyson
We are halfway into the Write 31 Days Challenge and it’s been amazing finding poetry and sayings to go with the fall images I have been taking. Sure, I planned ahead, and several of the pictures were taken on one day, but not every day is a photographic kind of day. Depending on weather, where the sun is, if I forget…. <—- That last one is a huge one. But I keep finding new things to see and take pictures of. It’s been really good to get back into photography after not doing that much in the scope of things this year. Writing has been a bigger influence and seeing the shots I get is always this heart pounding feeling of amazement with God’s creation.
I hope everyone else has been enjoying this challenge as well. Has there been a favorite image that has stood out for you? Whimsy Mum and Mushing Around were Mrs. Austen‘s favorites so far…. though she mentioned the Milkweed picture. I have to say the Calendula day was my favorite, due to the cheeriness of it all.
Today is Aspens. The aspens are changing and this little beauty, while it looks like it might be hanging, is laying flat on the ground. (the other image turned out blurry. booo!) They are like golden medallions scattered to infinity. Nature’s money floating around.
Of course aspens make me think of John Denver. And Colorado and Interlaken…. and sometimes it makes me want to cry. I’ll never know why, but maybe I can explain it some day. Pure beauty. Psst, don’t tell Mr. B, he might laugh at me.
It’s a long way from L.A. to Denver
It’s a long time to hang in the sky
It’s a long way home to Starwood in Aspen
A sweet Rocky Mountain paradise
Oh, my sweet Rocky Mountain paradise
Springtime is rolling ’round slowly
Grey skies are bringing me down
I can’t remember when I’ve ever been so lonely
I forgot what it’s like to be home
Can’t remember what it’s like to be home…..
Starwood ~John Denver
The sunflowers are nearly over, mostly having given up their seeds to the titmice, nuthatches, blue jays and Stellar’s Jays, but sometimes there is an odd flower or two. Currently it is really raining now, so this picture came from last week when the weather was more cooperative to taking pictures. I also felt the need to post this for Mrs. Austen who is missing her husband while he is overseas for a business trip. She loves Sunflowers. I must oblige.
But on the hill the goldenrod, and the aster in the wood,
And the yellow sunflower by the brook in autumn beauty stood,
Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls the plague on men,
And the brightness of their smile was gone, from upland, glade, and glen.
The Death of the Flowers ~ William Cullen Bryant