"Pay attention to the world." -- Susan Sontag
 

Autumn Groundcover (1 of 2)

From The Complete Works of Henry David Thoreau by Henry David Thoreau:

“With the autumn begins in some measure a new spring. The plover is heard whistling high in the air over the dry pastures, the finches flit from tree to tree, the bobolinks and flickers fly in flocks, and the goldfinch rides on the earliest blast, like a winged hyla peeping amid the rustle of the leaves. The crows, too, begin now to congregate; you may stand and count them as they fly low and straggling over the landscape, singly or by twos and threes, at intervals of half a mile, until a hundred have passed.”

From John Muir Ultimate Collection: Travel Memoirs, Wilderness Essays, Environmental Studies and Letters by John Muir:

“In autumn, when the colors are ripe, the whole circular grove, at a little distance, looks like a big handful of flowers set in a cup….”


Hello!

I spent one of my recent autumn photo-shoots looking mostly at the ground. Gravity and the fall wind position the leaves in some of the most delightful arrangements of shape, pattern, and color, so I set out to capture a few images where those arrangements caught my eye. Admittedly — since I’m basically an adult-adjacent kid at heart — some shuffling and kicking through the leaves did also occur… but not until after I took the photos!

While I was taking these pictures, I heard a leaf blower off in the distance, so it’s not impossible that some of these patterns were created by one of those satanic wind machines. I do own one, I’ll admit: it resides just inside my crawlspace door where it’s been idle for about a decade, gathering under-house dust while it rests there unused. It’s a “deluxe model” actually, one of those that you can use to vacuum up leaves which it then sucks through a grinder, reduces them to a fine powder, then deposits them in an attached (and very large) canvas bag. Sounds efficient, huh?

I used that capability once: the exploding noises made by leaves, sticks, and occasional bits of pea gravel getting pulverized a few inches from my stomach and groin just about drove me insane while I considered what would happen if the mechanism split open — which struck me as inevitable (though in real life wouldn’t happen, probably) and potentially life-changing (and not in a good way). What got the machine rendered into crawlspace oblivion however was an untended consequence of its mulching: since I live in an urban area and yard trimmings and debris have to be placed for curbside pickup in paper lawn bags, I had to transfer the ground leaves to those bags. So…

Imagine my surprise when I dumped the leaves from the stuffed canvas bag into a paper one and a cloud of leaf dust rose up like a desert sandstorm filling my back yard, covering the brick courtyard, the walls of the house, two windows, and a double-glass door — all of which I had to spend the next two hours hosing off and windexing until they were clean again. It’s probably true that I exaggerate here occasionally, for fun, just to entertain myself (and hopefully you’s)… but this is exactly what happened.

Later that same day… I went out and bought a new rake.

🙂


If you would like to see my previous fall color posts for this year, they’re all organized under this tag:

Autumn 2021

Thanks for reading and taking a look!








Autumn Yellow, Autumn Orange (2 of 2)

From Becoming Animal: An Earthly Cosmology by David Abram:

“There are … the winds of autumn, those that whirl through the streets tearing the dry, ruddy-brown leaves from their moorings. Alive with the scents of fallen fruit and soil and smoke, the autumn wind teases our nostrils as it whooshes past, scattering the humped piles of carefully raked leaves, mingling their constituents with other leaves spiraling down from the branches…

“Our bodies witness this gradual release of leaves, this stripping away of color from the gray, skeletal limbs, and cannot help but feel that the animating life of things is slipping off into the air — that the wind moaning in our ears is composed of innumerable spirits leaving their visible bodies behind….

“The wind is haunted, alive. Only in this liminal season, before the onset of winter, does the wild psyche of the land assert itself so vividly that even the most rational persons find themselves lost, now and then, in the uncanny depths of the sensuous….”


Hello!

Below are a few images from my previous post — Autumn Yellow, Autumn Orange (1 of 2) — with their backgrounds converted to black. Yellow on black, orange on black …. hmmmmmm, gorgeous!

Click this link if you would like to see my previous fall color posts for this year:

Autumn 2021

Thanks for lookin’!



Autumn Yellow, Autumn Orange (1 of 2)

From October, or Autumnal Tints by Henry David Thoreau:

“As I go across a meadow directly towards a low rising ground this bright afternoon, I see, some fifty rods off toward the sun the top of a Maple swamp just appearing over the sheeny russet edge of the hill, a stripe apparently twenty rods long by ten feet deep, of the most intensely brilliant scarlet, orange and yellow equal to any flowers or fruits, or any tints ever painted….

“As I advance, lowering the edge of the hill which makes the firm foreground or lower frame of the picture, the depth of the brilliant grove revealed steadily increases, suggesting that the whole of the enclosed valley is filled with such color.”


Hello!

This is the first of a pair of posts featuring yellow and orange fall colors. They tend to be my favorite colors to photograph and post-process this time of year, as both are bright in shade or sun, and both create nice sharp contrasts with the backgrounds they appear in. More muted than the reds that also fill the autumn landscape, my eye or my camera or both always seem drawn to these color variations. With the reds it always seems harder to isolate individual leaves and branches and produce colors I’m satisfied with in Lightroom, but the yellows and oranges — woohoo!

🙂

If you would like to see my previous fall color posts for this year, they’re all organized under this tag:

Autumn 2021

Thanks for taking a look!








Painted Leaves and Branches

From “The Sugar Maple” in October, or Autumnal Tints by Henry David Thoreau:

“Think how much the eyes of painters of all kinds, and of manufacturers of cloth and paper, and paper-stainers, and countless others, are to be educated by these autumnal colors….

“The stationer’s envelopes may be of very various tints, yet not so various as those of the leaves of a single tree. If you want a different shade or tint of a particular color, you have only to look further within or without the tree or the wood. These leaves are not many dipped in one dye, as at the dye-house, but they are dyed in light of infinitely various degrees of strength, and left to set and dry there.”


Continuing with some autumn-color photography … here’s a collection featuring images of isolated leaves that turned early, mostly at the tips of branches, still hanging on in mid-November … but probably not for long.

🙂

If you would like to see my previous fall color posts for this year (you might have missed one!), they’re all organized under the same tag, this one:

Autumn 2021

Thanks for taking a look!







Autumn Vines on Old Stone

From “Tom’s Garden” by Margie Ruddick in Architecture of the Everyday by Steven Harris and Deborah Berke:

“When I was small, the straight dirt roads had a wild character despite their layout: a tangle of trees, shrubs, vines, and native grasses screened the houses that nestled in the growth….

“Many people … had carved small gardens out of their back yards, and you could catch a glimpse, around the corners of the houses, of small emerald green patches, proper gardens with wisteria, hydrangea, and daylilies. While the face toward the road was often unkempt and chaotic, the small private world behind the house was often lush and well groomed; each of these gardens was different from the next.”

From “A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers” in The Complete Works of Henry David Thoreau by Henry David Thoreau:

“The wind in the woods sounded like an incessant waterfall dashing and roaring amid rocks, and we even felt encouraged by the unusual activity of the elements. He who hears the rippling of rivers in these degenerate days will not utterly despair….

“That night was the turning-point in the season. We had gone to bed in summer, and we awoke in autumn; for summer passes into autumn in some unimaginable point of time, like the turning of a leaf.”


The Thoreau quote above pretty much captures the seasonal change to instant autumn here in the southeast: suddenly temperatures drop from the seventies into the forties and thirties for a couple of days, and many recently green things seem to turn yellow, orange, and red over night. As I was working through a couple of batches of new fall-color photos, I pulled out these few of vines climbing among the statues at Oakland Cemetery’s gardens — the last leaves still hanging from their stems, sometimes suspended in midair as they stretched from their attachment points.

The last image below is a minimalist variation of the one just above it, where I let Lightroom select the subject and it chose only the central vine and the single leaf on it. Then I converted the background to white and added some yellow and orange saturation, to emphasize the leaf and give the vine a little extra punch.

Thanks for taking a look!