burning bush lighting it up
burning bush is an ornamental shrub that goes pretty much unnoticed all year, and then for two or three glorious weeks of autumn is becomes spectacular. not unlike spring forsythia, or lilacs i suppose. green, lumpy, blobs of bushes that have three weeks of fame each year. at three-week intervals, it only takes 17 said bushes to make for one hell of an interesting year. in climates far more moderate than ours, i am sure this is already a reality. but here in the north, we have to settle for a year’s worth of pageantry crammed into 8 months. even with all the competition, burning bush is still a crowd-pleaser.
burning bush in autumn colors (Euonymus alatus)
everyone is trying so hard
everyone is trying so hard right now. wood ducks are vacuuming up the last of the acorns. squirrels are feverishly gnawing walnuts. bees are sneaking out on the last warm days to make a few drops more of honey. bucks are chasing does in desperate lust. we on the other hand, sit by the fire each night, thankful for asphalt shingles, insulation, and central heat.
milkweed seed pods with seeds and floss
even in death, this burdock is not done with its journey. it has got me thinking about when we die, and what we leave behind.
burdock seed heads (arctium)
a handful of gold
here in the north, november is a transition month. a transition from the overwhelming green of summer, to the cold white dormancy of winter. a rich, saturated, momentary blip between two extremes. grab yourself a handful while you can.
fall colors x 2
i left my dahlia blooms to dry on the kitchen floor, and to my surprise, they dried the exact same colors as the ivy leaves from my mom’s house. if you scroll back two weeks in my feed, you will see the original blooms–mostly pink, and yellow, and peach-colored. at the time i described the darker pink ones as merlot. i guess i was prescient, for they have aged beautifully into nice burgundies and cabernets.
autumn dahlias and leaves