Yesterday was a lovely Indian Summer day in the Delaware Valley, with temperatures in the mid-70s and a bright blue sky.
Mrs. P and I took a stroll in the state park near our home and got some early glimpses of autumn. The park does not have the magnificent display of colors that Bill S and Coyote Old Style have shown from Vermont and New Hampshire, due to both to an insufficient variety of trees and the still relatively early stage of autumn down this way.
But I think I got some good shots and thought I would share. Hope you enjoy the walk!
We sensed we were going to have a good day when, on our way to the park, we drove past a pond in which a great blue heron posed for us, although he was too skittish to let me come very near.
On the way to the parking lot at the park, we marveled at the colors that the partially blocked sun cast on a cloud.
We parked at a lot near the creek that runs through the park. A causeway over the creek makes it possible for bikers, hikers, and joggers to look downstream.
Although sycamore leaves do not clothe themselves in beautiful raiment, I find the straight, white trunks of those trees riveting, especially as framed by the sky.
It’s always wonderful when you run into trees with completely different colors.
The sky provides a lovely ground, as it were.
The low late-afternoon sun makes the leaves glow.
We encountered several mixes of colors on our walk.
We also saw a man on horseback crossing a field of soybeans turned brown and burnished by the low angled light.
Even the transition from light green to yellow to brown of this tulip poplar was eloquent.
But this combination of colors took our breath away.
Then we were captivated by these leaves, turning red one spot at a time.
At the end of our walk, we got back to the causeway. As we watched, the geese on the creek decided to move upstream, and I was able to get a shot. We loved the puffball clouds, too.
Before reaching our car, we were blessed with one last, dazzling vision.
Words and pictures © 2009 AtHome Pilgrim.
All Rights Reserved.
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john: Do you think he'll sue?
Chuck: Herons are so cool. Very Zen in their stillness. And I'm glad if you got that reminder; it's the one I got, too.
If I had to pick out a favorite (and it would be hard, believe me!) it would be a toss-up between the leaves glowing and the geese against the puffball clouds.
Excellent! And many many thanks for the shout-out. :-D
Highly rated.
Lea, glad to deliver a down-the-coast progress report. I think we might have another couple of weeks of some color, and I'm hoping to get out again. Stay tuned! And thank you for providing the correct term for puffballs!
Bill: I'm honored by your praise, as your shots are always exceptional. And you're quite welcome for the shoot-out--gotta give credit where 'tis due! (Leastways, that's what the creditors say. . . . )
Rated!
Pen, I'm happy to be able to put some color into your vista. Before you get too homesick, remember that in another few weeks, we here will all be brown and drab. This color orgy, like all things, must pass.
Kisses,
Marcela
I'll be in the Blue Ridge Mountains of my Old North state for a long weekend next week. I hope to be able to do something similar to what you've done here upon my return.
Owl: It was seriously great, though just for a couple of hours.
Marcela: Gracias. Don't forget to keep treating us to spring!
Carolina: Thank you. Looking forward to seeing the Blue Ridge autumn as well!
Autumn is a tricky season for me. I've been working on a poem about it for almost ten years... trying to figure out how it is that no matter what it is we've done throughout the year, our mistakes and 'sins', our cruelties and failures... how it it is that we get to see this loveliness each year. Maybe it's forgiveness, maybe it's redemption, maybe it's the lesson of transition... maybe I obviously don't know what it is because the poem sits unfinished in about a half dozen notebooks to this day.
I live near the west coast, close to Portland Oregon. It is beautiful here and we have our fair share of Blue Herons, colorful maple trees, and mountains of evergreens. I used to live in next to Cape Cod and your photos remind me of the beauty I remember so fondly there.
To my mind, the reason you can't finish that poem about autumn is that you've misplaced the sentiment. It is spring, in its bright color and warmth and promise of renewed life, that gives us redemption from our sins and balm for our hurts. Autumn, to me, is melancholy, even though the trees may be more glorious, because that glory is even more fleeting than the spring's and is followed by desolation rather than vibrancy, cold rather than warmth (and hockey rather than baseball . . .).
Try replacing "autumn" with "spring" in your poem. Bet it will scan better! ;)
I have to disagree. I think the beauty of fall is much deeper than spring's. I am amazed every fall that it is so forgiving of us, of our lives.
This is so lovely. I took a bunch of pictures yesterday, on my long commute home, of the crazy colors here in Massachusetts. I am now inspired to maybe upload and post them!
And, as someone else said, your words that move us along these little journets are as magnificent as the pictures.
Pro: As I said to Chuck, I think they're fascinating because they seem so balanced and can be so still.
Polly, I'm taking that as a vote of approval as well!