A Autumn Notebook

I thought folks might enjoy a few glimpses of autumn near our home. The below images didn’t require travelling to distant places but instead reflect what was seen as nature spoke to us in the intimacy of our own “neighborhood”. Unlike the maple covered hillsides of Vermont, autumn in central Ohio, with it’s more subtle colors, speaks in a soft voice. Putting this post together I imagined a notebook where thoughts and impressions of the season would be written down and, pausing for a moment, contemplated.

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This path along the reservoir is walked many times during the year but only on one day did it look like this. 

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A quest for autumn migrants was momentary interrupted as we stopped to watch the bare branches of a Black Walnut “conduct the music of the sky”. (1)

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In the canoe, fishing for over an hour without a bite, I started looking at the water’s autumn reflections. A unexpected catch.

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Something sacred, as if transported inside a gothic cathedral? Under a blue dome, we look through “panes” to colors beyond.

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On the water’s blank canvas of color, mallard art.

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Patterns in bark, leaves, and shadows, the endless allure of a Sycamore.

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In the mystery, with their small voices, warblers made themselves known overhead.

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Just now, with the help of the faintest breeze, the water’s surface reinterprets.

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With light and shadow the leaves of a mulberry play their tune.

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A quiet park road beckons us to travel into the magic of the moment 

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Sculpted by the river, autumn graces the twisted shape of a tree at waters edge.

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In defiance of the coming winter a Sycamore splashes the landscape with muted color.

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With it’s own beauty, a leaf on the water’s surface takes us beyond what we think we know or perceive.

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A light rain enhances shape and color but brings with it a sense foreboding of what has been and what is to come.

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The afternoon sun punctuates shoreline trees. We wish for it to not end.

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Overhanging trees embrace the river with a warmth that betrays the coolness of the day.

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Reflection on the water’s surface, an autumn impression.

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Sunny, not to cold, nice day for a picnic, but we’ve moved on.

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An early morning hike graced with shafts of light and color.

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Cold descends, days now short, and among dark shapes the few remaining leaves twinkle.

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That one last leaf in the fall as winter’s cold grips the land has always been a romantic image for me. Perhaps it’s because although we should look forward to the promise of every season we should also never be too quick to let go.

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Thanks for stopping by.

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Note (1): The idea “conduct the music of the sky” was suggested to me by a friend when she looked at the photograph.