A Misrepresentation

Fall is noisy and crunchy scattered like butter brickle across the pan of earth.

Fall is the song of crickets belying a firm daring soon to be buried in snow.

Fall is that older friendship that takes you to the attic for a fuzzy plaid throw.

Fall is the angle of sun catching another oblique to show forgotten shape.

Fall is shivers of thought and the respite in reflection before a scalloped landscape.

Fall is careless and fickle shoving its changes such that you can barely foresee.

Fall is a quick reminder that the year is near behind and you are in act three.

The Wildest that flows through a Population?

Rivers are the life blood of much of America.

We hiked along a river that runs through three states and one District.
 
It extends 383 miles from the Appalachian Mountains to the Chesapeake Bay and starts way up high in the mountains.

This river is the home to many many birds.

Both the great blue heron and the bald eagle live here.

The river has had a long relationship with man as well.  People lived along it shores 15,000 years ago.

During the American Civil War (1861–1865), the river traced the border between the Union and the Confederacy.  It WAS the line that divided the country.

People pull their canoes and kayaks out as they reach the gorge.  It is too dangerous to go on in some places.

For those who take the land the hiking along the shoreline is sometimes easy and sometimes difficult, But it is also beautiful this time of year.

Can you see hubby struggling with the rocks?

A waterfall from the Canal.

Do you know which river this is?

Shorter Farewells

The sun moves away looking at my hollow of the earth almost with a sideways glance as if trying to get out the door without being noticed, as if tiring of our conversation and eager to move on to other business, but not wanting to hurt my feelings.   Its rays are more golden and appear warmer when in reality the kiss is a cooler farewell version of our ever evolving relationship.  In reality its visits are shorter, the conversation simpler, and each parting in the evening more bittersweet.  While glances thrown my way are far more romantic and golden, I know that its eye is ready to wander on and to have affairs with others.  I do not own its passion and so I must let it go and wait patiently for its return in time.

My Goodness, Dear, What Large Berries You Have!

Diospyros sp. is the persimmon.  In the fall of the year the orange and round and seductively smooth skinned Japanese versions hit the supermarkets.  Most people do not know what these are, so I am surprised that they sell at all.  There are many varieties of this fruit.  There is a native American persimmon (Diospyros virginiana) that is high in nutrients like vitamin C, calcium, iron and potassium.  Tradition says that Americans cooked them in a pudding.  There are two kinds of persimmon, those that are astringent before ripening and those that are not.  Ours is the astringent version, and if you try to eat this fruit before it gets so soft you might think it has spoiled, it will make your mouth pucker tighter than a snare drum head.

This year, after a three year wait, we got our first real harvest.  But we did not wait until they fell to the ground, which is how you are supposed to harvest them.  We waited until they just started to get soft on the branch and then picked them off the tree to get them inside before the raccoons discovered this golden bounty.  They took a full week to ripen inside and we checked them each and every day.  I think that persimmons should be labeled the fruit of patience.  Their texture is custardy like an overripe plum and their flavor is sweet and gentle.

Even more, the tree itself is a shining example of a fall ornamental and turns lovely shades of autumn and is one of my favorite decorative elements in the yard this time of year.  Just look as these leaf photos I have taken the last two weeks.  Oh, and regarding the title, botanically it IS a berry!

Below in the first photo it is competing with the wild maple on the right.

 Then as the days shorten and cool it begins to put on quite a show of colors and textures!

Jewel Tones

The jewels tumbling
spill to the ground,
throw away their glow
of amber and ruby and tourmaline
and become skeletons
fading to chalk and ash
the way all living things do.

Scattered pure reflections
as from a prism
that hung at the sun's circumference
and now lie broken
spilling the bit of imperfect light
that remains
across the earth's floor.

When the cold descends
they crunch like the crackle
of a warm fire
as they give up the last
of their beauty
and remind us of
the swift passage of time.

Reminding us that
our greatest challenges
lie ahead
calling us to hold strong
with dignity and grace
as our own glow fades
and only memories
are left to warm others
when the cold descends.

Cherry On the Top

Years ago, when I first moved into this house, I was impressed with the fall colors that appear in my woods.  The tulip poplar trees are the first to change, dressing their leaves in deep yellow.  This is followed by the red-buds which also turned a golden hue.  Then the dogwoods blush in a deep blood red.  The oaks compete with their rust red colors which glow when the sun hits them in the late afternoon.  In various corners the sassafras burns bright red almost painful to the eyes.  The native maple trees are arbitrary in their color change depending on rain and temperature, some autumns they start outlines of red and then fall to the ground and darken to red-brown, while on optimal autumns they become the reddest of the reds putting all the other trees and shrubs to shame.  The hollies and cedars and the slash pines stand in the chorus line and continue their rich backdrops of forest green in this autumnal painting. 

Yet, despite the inconvenient truth of global warming, I was not totally satisfied with this group of show-offs and wanted a sugar maple to add that peach red color that is not found in any of my native trees.  Three years ago, in the fall, I paid $60.00 and planted a 6 foot high twig of a sugar maple that appears to be grafted onto another type of root maple.  This year she has taken the diva role.

At first she was a little shy and just blushed, because she is so small and the fig in front of her is such a big bully of a robust tree.

 

But just like any happy four-year-old, once she gets her prettiest dress on, she is ready to take center stage.

And when the sun tickles her directly, it makes her laugh out loud and forget her lines.  Unfortunately, this week, the nasty wind is tearing most of the ribbons from her hair and it is getting time to take the final bow for this performance.

Thank You!

Remember that day I had sprained my ankle
and complained of having to stay home?
Well, I send generous thanks for taking me
along that walk around your lake and
thanks to you, in the back of the room,
for the hike up that aspen gold hillside.

Remember that day I drug everyone
down just like Eeyore on a normal day?
Well, abundant thanks for that poem
about autumn and thanks to you
sitting with your laptop for
that photo of your
special bird that comes to your birdbath
and the photos of your garden.

Remember that time I spewed anger
over some political loudmouth
that had been broadcast across
the land and paid well?
Here is a hug and kiss to you
for that rest on your porch
and that trip to your child's play at school
that made me laugh!

Now I will return the uplift with some photos of my own from a farm I visited near my home.  The cool front was pushing through painting the sky lovely colors and twisting the angle of the sun's rays into prisms of color.

And there was even Huckleberry Finn at the dock!

Hello, Hello.

I went down to the dock to say goodbye to October...but then realized it was November first and November was saying HELLO! (Resolution changed to protect the photographer...)

Next few days I will post the lovely scenery on the farm were I went for a fundraising activity.

A Crack of Thunder

Fall is fully here with sticky wet leaves spinning their way to the ground between the gray rain drops leaving better and better views through the woods.  It is our first really cold day today, hanging in the high 40's F.  Last night as we sat watching television we heard a large crack like that of thunder or a rifle firing.  The sound seemed to come from across the river.  Hubby is an outdoors-man and said right away that it was the dying oak down by the dock that had finally fallen.  It was this tree's base where I had taken a picture of the Jack-O-Lantern fungus in the prior post.   This oak had started to die within months of our moving into our house, and for some reason, we felt a bit intimidated by that death as if we had caused it in some way.  It had lasted so many years and we wondered if we were we the ones that pushed it over the edge?  It spared the oyster cages which we laid at its feet.

There were the remains of a hunter's stand nailed into the tree...which was perhaps the work that had eventually killed the tree.  We cut away all the dead limbs (widow makers)  that hung over the trail to the dock when we started living here.  Thus when this marvelous behemoth released his/her hold on the earth it fell away from the dock and toward the salt bush at the edge of the river.  It looked so much bigger when pushed to the earth.

A new meal for our resident pileated woodpeckers through this winter.

On a happier note, the last male osprey, Fred, left for warmer weather last week and I missed seeing, while sipping my coffee, his silhouette against the sky each day as he sat on the snag above his nest.  When the sun was out most days I saw the resident blue heron taking possession of the abandoned nest while grooming himself/herself.  (It is a terrible photo...taken in a rush!)

This morning as the gray day broke I saw the silhouette of larger bird on the same tree snag. At first I thought it was a vulture resting.  Then as the light grew brighter I grabbed my binoculars and saw that it was an immature bald eagle waiting for the heaviest rains to diminish or perhaps just waiting in a new place.  I hope he comes often in the months ahead even though they are very shy, but he/she will certainly move to another part of the woods when the osprey returns in the spring.  The arrival of nesting season in the spring will make these two top 'dogs' dangerous enemies.

Hootenanny.

When fall arrives I am always surprised how the long angles of the sun can make everything so crisp and clean and new looking.  It is as if I am staying in a new place.  The sun has ended with its hot burn lighting making everything flat and bright and is pulling out all the soft hues and new gel filters even before the leaves begin to change colors.  That hot orb paints the last of my autumn blossoms with deep lavish colors giving me memorable visions to hold me over during the winter months.  The wind blows billowing clouds back and forth and even sometimes lets them pause long enough to allow some rain to fall.  The musty smells of the forest floor are dry and dusty this week and ground birds are noisily tossing leaves all around looking for the really fat fellows hiding below.   Squirrels chase each other scratching the back of the tree up one side and down the other as their larder must be filled.  The crickets sing, but sort of sorrowfully, as if they know their time is short.  Spiders hang out by my windows and doors trying to sneak their way inside before the cold comes. 


Last night deep in the woods as the fog formed over this river in the photo above, I heard the owls singing their autumn song.  I have my own front row seat to the regularly held Autumn Hootenanny just outside my bedroom windows as Halloween approaches.

Death By Any Other Name

Called 'dead leaf retention'

by those who spend their lives

naming things and processes.

But for me,

I see it as the gentle open

palm revealing the past year's

life lines and energy dances

in the summer wind.

I see it as the refusal

to leave that last curtain call

instead to hold hands bravely

in the sun's spotlight

even though the applause has ended

and the fans have long gone home.

Fall Romance

The fall has passed and I cannot complain because it lasted longer than I had ever hoped and it was lovelier in just my back yard than I can remember in a long time. There was no need to travel to the cooler mountains this year for the glory festival of colorful leaf flags.  Even the roasty browns that are left behind are lovely and warm like sable wraps.


I discovered by close observation that there also was a little romance between the grasses and the shrubs down by the river it seems, and it looks like some one got some bling before the snows arrived or the gift giving got formal!

I heart this.

I Planted a Tree

A few years ago, having such hubris in trying to conform the forest to my taste, I planted a sugar maple in the single open part of my yard by the turn-around in the driveway.  This autumn rewarded me with such autumn beauty that the planting of this tree seems like an extra layer of icing on an already sweet cake.  As you can see it must share the space with piles of top soil or mulch or whatever we dump in that open area in the fall.  I live in the woods and yet I still plant trees, what can I say?  The first two years the leaves on this youngster turned crackly brown and fell to the ground in the fall revealing its skinny arms and I was pretty disappointed.  Yet, each spring I could run my fingers along the smooth gray trunk of the weeping bark and bring my fingertips to my mouth and taste the sweetest nectar.

This fall my tree has found her brazen courage. She is no longer a wall flower and dances with the delicate red maples and 100-foot golden poplars as if she belongs here.  She is like that pretty three-year-old that dances on the floor in front of the band, but like everyone is watching as she flips her strawberry blonde locks!

The dance is far too short, but I am glad I did not miss it.

Domestic Squabble in the Meadow

We had lunch beside this fungus and lichen covered log that rested beside the log on which we sat. Its stunning beauty was more enticing than any elaborate centerpiece in a fancy restaurant and the lighting was far lovelier than any candle arrangement. We ate sliced asian pears that were as crisp as but more sweet than apples. We had crunchy crackers and cheese, to complete the gourmet meal as the fall whispered its way into the tall trees in the ravines.

We also sat not far from this very rare beauty in the photograph above. It appears to be a white-leaved maple tree. I have never seen his before and there were no others the same color nearby. Is there such a thing as an albino tree and how does it produce food with no chlorophyll?

The last day of our travels it began raining steadily and the skies were very overcast. We realized we would probably not be hiking very much on the leaf covered and slippery trails. Therefore, we made a plan to drive to a distant valley that hung between 6,000 foot peaks. Getting there is a real challenge because the paved road soon changes to gravel and becomes a narrow lane and then becomes very winding with many blind curves. We had to keep alert as we encountered a few cars as well as large trucks coming down the mountain as we were trying to make our way up. We passed safely, but sometimes with only inches between the vehicles and just a few feet from the steep drop off on one side. This was not a trip for the weak of heart.

We were determined to reach the top because we had been told by the ranger that we might be rewarded on an overcast day by seeing elk that had been re-introduced into the area a number of years ago. "Surrounded by 6000-foot peaks, this isolated valley was the largest and most prosperous settlement in what is now the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Once known for its farms and orchards, today Cataloochee is one of the most picturesque areas of the park."

As can be seen from the photo above, we were rewarded with a sighting of elk, actually an entire herd. We saw several striking bull elk and a number of cows as well as younger calves. Most were collared or tagged and close enough to photograph. You can see the tag if you click on the photo.

Just as we approached this large bull saw that part of his harem was on the other side of the road. He bugled loudly several times (such a haunting call) before lowering his head back and trotting over to that side of the road to herd them back and away from some of the younger males that were casually grazing nearby. The testosterone in the air was palpable.

If you click on the photo above you can see more clearly the cows hurrying ahead of the bull and the young males on the far right wondering what all the fuss was about. They will probably figure it out next year.

Then Again on the Other Side of the Continent

Fall in the mountains on the East side of the United States is very different than striking gold in the Rocky Mountains. Here is more like a bordello. Like striking sex? Here we have a hussy that is not afraid to flaunt her seductive beauty. She wears colored veils that she throws at your feet whether you look away or stare straight at her as she strips away those veils. She paints her toenails and fingernails with kaleidoscopic colors. With the same compelling feeling a photographer gets when capturing sunsets, this photographer cannot stop snapping away as every view is too lovely to not try to archive in digital pixels for years to come. This scene above was along a mountain river in Southern Virginia as we set out on our trip. (Click for a closer view if you have prurient interests, natch.)

This photo was along the road on the Blue Ridge Parkway early one morning as the sun peaked over the clouds hanging just at the horizon and sent a ray of light in the direction we were headed. Someone was keeping an eye out for us I am thinking.

A Hillside Treasure of Golden Coins Part 5

Sometimes you get very lucky.
Sometimes you are in the right place at exactly the right time.
Sometimes the earth empties her treasure chest of gold at your feet.

Golden aspens filled the hillsides as I gazed open-mouthed.
They glittered like gold coins from a pirate chest.
This is the kind of wealth you can store in your mind's heart for the cold winter.

One of my (our) tasks was to scatter ashes of loved ones.
We left our wealth in exchange for this beauty.
It was a golden offering of peace and rest.
(Boreas Pass Road, Colorado)

Juices Flowing

Just days before this post I am filling a suitcase with layered clothing for my trip, yet, I am feeling full of the creative juices as the air turns crystal clear and crisp fall winds are encouraging me forward. (Well, as most of my readers know, I am back.) I love this time of year. Did I mention that I absolutely LOVE this time of year? Everything is going into a deep long sleep but all are giving out the most beautiful vibes in the process to encourage us to remember their energy and their spirits, and of course I will remember. I will daydream throughout the gray-blue winter days of their warmth and loving spiritual hugs. Their farewells are as passionate and as demanding as the grande divas of opera are in their farewells. It is the lieto fine of this year for me. I am not overly fond of winter and will spend much of my time curled into my chair in front of the fire until early spring with its enigmatic chores. But this fall...right now...I will dance and dance and lift my arms high to honor the moment. (Please click on the photos for some fall art expression.)