278/365: top of the ridge, autumn
There is no season when such pleasant and sunny spots may be lighted on, and produce so pleasant an effect on the feelings, as now in October.
– Nathaniel Hawthorne
276/365: white prairie asters
The asters have won my heart for the sheer exuberant volume of blossoms they produce, for being hearty and beautiful in a kind of workaday way, for blooming so late in the season when the garden is a mess and I’ve lost my gumption for it until next spring. We might all pursue our vocations with such earnest cheer.
273/365: blue sky / yellow leaves
An autumnal companion to this spring reflection. I never tire of the play of light, color, and movement on the water. This image to me shines with all the intensity of a bright, sunny fall day, full of unbelievably intense color.
255/365: early autumn riot
This image expresses the tangled mess of nature and the absolute profusion of life that exists anywhere the natural world is left undisturbed if even a small space or a limited time. The energy and chaos and intermingling of so many different life forms, colors, textures – to me this is what nature is all about. It’s not an idealized concept of ‘landscape’ but it’s very real. For me, these scenes are full of hope – a testament to the how strong, robust & resilient nature can really be.
see ‘beautiful mess, part one’ here.
254/365: purple dome asters
Our garden has never had much fall interest so this year I’m excited about the new asters in the native plant garden. So excited, in fact, that I couldn’t wait for them to open entirely before photographing them several days in a row. There is something magical about emergence, being poised on the brink of discovery but with so much left unknown.
You may have noticed that I have a fascination with things in nature that look like other things in nature. And, so, as I was surveying the remains of the garden – the leftovers from fall – I was struck by the skeletal transformation of some of the vegetables. Because I particularly love it when vegetables begin to resemble animals. Or, in this case, bones.
73/365: last year’s beans