I wasn’t home at the beginning of October and it was nearly mid-month before I got around to doing this installment in my monthly photo project. Several of the shots (now deleted) of the big oak behind my house look pretty much like the shots in August and September, although the other trees around the oak tree are beginning to display their fall foliage. While this was initially disappointing, it made my think about how different the tree can look from day-to-day and hour-to-hour. Like every photographic subject, it all depends on the light.
Crown and Light
I love the sunflares in this image and how it shows off part of the magnificent crown of this tree.
Here is another perspective of the crown, arching above the other trees on the side of the hill. (For a sense of scale, note the stop sign in the lower right corner.) The sky today isn’t nearly as blue, but the colder weather the last few days have painted the trees in fiery reds and oranges. The oak tree, which occasionally becomes a rusty red before turning to its normal russet shade, isn’t likely to change for another four weeks or so. In the meantime, most of the trees on the hillside will have lost their leaves long before Old Oak begins to shed.
Across the Road
You can find other posts in this project here.
I seem to be a bit obsessed with bare tree limbs recently.
Last March, I posted photos of a fallen silver maple tree in a boggy area. I had foolishly crawled out on the tree to photograph the brilliant red buds.
Later in the summer, at the height of the drought, I walked back into this area and discovered that all of the water was gone. I could see just how deep the water had been in the Spring. The tree still had leaves on it, despite the lack of rainfall. I took these photos with my phone.
Earlier this week I once again walked along the trail the passes this place. I was surprised to find that the water has returned to the depths of the Spring. Even more surprising was that there were still leaves on this tree. This old tree does not want to go gently into that good night. There is still a lot of dirt surrounding the roots, but I suspect that this is her final season of life.
The last hurrah
We can never judge the lives of others, because each person knows only their own pain and renunciation. It’s one thing to feel that you are on the right path, but it’s another to think that yours is the only path. ~ Paulo Coelho
Since it’s the spooky time of year, what with Monday’s full moon, Frankenstorm and everything, I thought I’d post this photo that I took several weeks ago.
It was a rainy day and I was trying to photograph what should have been the last of the roses in my mother’s garden. Although the only petals on her roses are now on the ground, there are still roses blooming elsewhere around town. It was near 80 degrees earlier this week. Roses and 80 degrees in late October in Indiana: now that is freaky! But, as a Hoosier poet once said: The frost is on the pumpkin. (That’s probably the only line of James Whitcomb Riley’s poetry that I remember from grade school).
When trying to frame a photo of a rose hip, I saw this spectacular web suspended between two roses, shimmering with raindrops, on a gray afternoon. Now that is poetic, freaky, beautiful!
I think I need to reread Charlotte’s Web.
“I don’t understand it. But for that matter I don’t understand how a spider learned to spin a web in the first place. When the words appeared, everyone said they were a miracle. But nobody pointed out that the web itself is a miracle.”
“What’s miraculous about a spider’s web?” said Mrs. Arable. “I don’t see why you say a web is a miracle – it’s just a web.”
“Ever try to spin one?” asked Dr. Dorian.”
As creepy as it gets around here…
This is my contribution to Ailsa’s Travel Theme. This week’s theme: Spooky!
Discouragement: When you look at the big pile of leaves and realize that you still have several hours of work left to do — and there are still leaves in the trees!
On a brighter side: I don’t have any grass to cut during the summer.
Autumn, the year’s last, loveliest smile. ~ William Cullen Bryant
Leaf After Rainstorm