And one more post before December disappears. . .
It's been a warmish December, but there were moments of fire and frost.
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December's dominant color scheme may be brown, gray and white, but bright notes of red bring a spark of cheer.
The winter woods has different treasures from the other seasons. The colors are more muted, but the shapes stand out.
(This was supposed to post last week, but didn't, so it's a little belated -- but the glimpses of November color may be welcome with these gray days we've been having!)
We are slipping rapidly toward winter and the leaves are all down now, but before November has completely vanished, here is a bit of fall color from earlier in the month. Let the leaves fall where they may.... Reflections of various kinds -- sunrise over and in the dam pond, a blaze of fall color on a gray day, windows and reflections at the calendar garden, roots and more roots, and the view from our hotel in Pittsburgh.
If seeing human characteristics in nonhuman objects is anthropomorphism, what is it called when you see critter characteristics in plant life? After a month's hiatus due to internet connection problems, I am finally able to post this little cohort of critters.
One entrance to Allegheny Cemetery is just up the street from where Beth and Jesse live in Pittsburgh. The cemetery has 300 acres surrounded by city, with about a third of it still undeveloped and the rest rolling hills scattered with crypts, tombstones and memorials. And wild life. We encountered geese, deer, and squirrels as we wandered on a recent visit.
A sunny fall day, just before our first frosts in the middle of October, and there was activity everywhere I looked. The little white or yellow or gold butterflies (or perhaps moths) were too restless to record, but some of the other insects dallied long enough to have their portrait taken. So three photos of bugs, three of seedheads, and one broader view of billowing plants and clouds.
It was a foggy morning for the Day Away at Pathways Retreat a week ago. I headed out to the labyrinth in the walnut grove and on the way saw a small spider web in a dried plant, very visible thanks to the fog drops that filled it. I recorded it from several angles and then, as I stepped back, saw a second, sparser web outlined in drops, suspended more or less vertically beside it. And it was only when I zoomed in with the computer back home that I saw a whole constellation of silk strands and scattered drops above the first web -- and the spider at its base. Elsewhere small yellow leaves covered the ground, falling on the dewy green leaves of a sapling and serving as bright backdrop for a large drop on the tip of a blade of grass. By the time I returned to the retreat house, the sun was starting to break through, lighting a drop on another stem as I passed. |
My approach to contemplative photography --
"Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it." Mary Oliver in "Sometimes" Archives
August 2020
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