November Rain
November Rain
Even the misty bluish cast of dark, rainy November afternoon can’t dim the brilliance of scarlet oak leaves.
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Shades of Red
Shades of Red
Nestled in their russet leaves, shiny dogwood berries glow in late afternoon sun, apparently a temptation for all birds that visit my yard, but are they treats or toys? I’m not sure because I’ve found them all over the place.
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For a print of any photo, visit “purchasing” for availability and terms. For photos of lots of black cats and other cats—and even some birds as I first published this post there—visit The Creative Cat.
Between the Rain and Sunset, 2011
Autumn Sunset
Rain had fallen intermittently all day, but the day had been steadily dark and cold even without falling rain. But as often happens on long rainy days, the clouds broke at about sunset to give a view of faded blue sky trimmed along the edges with heavy clouds, offering reflected light but no direct sunlight. Suddenly the autumn leaves shone again even in the cooler light. I carefully watched the light, deciding that when my errand was done, or as soon as I could, whichever came first, I’d head for my favorite ridge to photograph what there was of the sunset, hoping for lots of red from the humidity in the air and sunrays from the layers of clouds breaking up, but I’d take what I could get.
No such dramatics were in the plan for this evening, but watching the valley settle into night as I watched the clouds march steadily from the north, hearing only the wind as it swept from far beyond the horizon across my face, tugging at my hair and skirt on the hilltop where I stood, one tiny dot of a figure in this complicated and beautiful landscape, chilling my fingers with the first real cold of winter in its direct and determined path. In the center is Carnegie, somewhere in there is my house, and all of the familiar streets and scenes of my days reduced to a few amorphous blots of color, light and shadow.
In just minutes the north wind had carried the cloud cover over the valley once again like a blanket, leaving the valley in deep shadow but for the dots of light collected in the velvet darkness, small shreds of red showing through at the horizon; the sun has not given over yet, there is still some fire in its day.
Autumn Night
Seeds of the Future
Seeds fo the Future
Washed by the morning sun, this year’s brilliant leaves, flaming orange before they fall, seem like loving hands holding the delicate seed pods, which will in turn hold tight to the branches through the storms of winter and become next year’s seedlings. “One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh: but the earth abideth for ever.” (Ecclesiastes 1:4, King James version) Sometimes you can’t improve on the Shakespearean cadence of the King James, and I’ve always love the use of the word “abide”.
Autumn moves so quickly, and in these moments we see many goodbyes—birds migrating, animals beginning hibernation, leaves falling from trees, annual plants beginning their slow death—but the natural world knows that this is another turn of the cycle, and the earth will truly abide, already preparing for the return in spring.
All that inspired by a municipal sugar maple tree by the creek in Carnegie.
November Rain
November Rain
Even the misty bluish cast of dark, rainy November afternoon can’t dim the brilliance of scarlet oak leaves.
Reflections and Reality
Reflections and Reality
Hard to tell which is which as autumn leaves are both clearly reflected upon and seen through these corner windows of Andrew Carnegie Free Library & Music Hall in Carnegie. A window in its Italianate style, tiny Corinthian column topped by a fountain of familiar symmetrical arches and circle above in terra cotta, warm clay brick in courses and arched above and a cool limestone sill seen in all its detail and color, and also in silhouette through the window, built solid to last a century and counting.
Seeds of the Future
Seeds fo the Future
Washed by the morning sun, this year’s brilliant leaves, flaming orange before they fall, seem like loving hands holding the delicate seed pods, which will in turn hold tight to the branches through the storms of winter and become next year’s seedlings. “One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh: but the earth abideth for ever.” (Ecclesiastes 1:4, King James version) Sometimes you can’t improve on the Shakespearean cadence of the King James, and I’ve always love the use of the word “abide”.
Autumn moves so quickly, and in these moments we see many goodbyes—birds migrating, animals beginning hibernation, leaves falling from trees, annual plants beginning their slow death—but the natural world knows that this is another turn of the cycle, and the earth will truly abide, already preparing for the return in spring.
All that inspired by a municipal sugar maple tree by the creek in Carnegie.
October Rain
October Rain.
Water droplets sit on colored leaves. It was indeed very rainy, but the colors in this photo are the classic autumn harvest colors as well.
Today 