whoa, that’s bright!

at some point this fall, i gathered a basket full of fall leaves to use for STILL, but clearly got too busy or distracted before i could use them. it makes sense, as i was finishing up my STILL book manuscript about then. anyway, the basket of leaves dried up quite nicely–usually leaves curl as they dry, but since these leaves were stacked in a pile, they couldn’t curl. so, quite be accident, i have some beautiful fall leaf specimens. their colors fill fade soon enough. so here’s a final bit of  autumn warmth before we head into winter.

dried autumn sumac leaves

before i put them away

these black walnut shell slices i posted a week or so ago are still floating around on my desk top. before i sweep them up to stow them away, i felt compelled to take one more photo to show you their exquisite detail. they look like bones to me in this image–like slices of vertebrae.so much form and intentional structure in a humble walnut shell. in nature, as in most things, no detail is too small.

black walnut shells, sliced (Juglans nigra)

no matter what the circumstances

i love that these linden leaves had the wherewithal to change colors while simultaneously being systematically devoured by beetles. both processes–being eaten and changing colors–are headed for the same ending, so it hardly matters. and yet, something about the “you can’t change me” attitude of the color change makes me smile. linden leaves just being linden leaves. authentically themselves.

beetle eaten linden leaves in autumn color

low solar angle

the colors have mostly drained from the trees and plants. and have been replaced by the showy seed heads of the tall grasses (both ornamental and native) that are catching the low solar angles exactly right so that that they appear to be lit within. it’s magical. and it lasts only a short while –depending on when the rain, snow, and wind turn the these bobbing mop-heads into shorn broom handles. for me, it is a better display than the holiday lights that will soon be going up. try to catch it before it is gone.

ornamental tall grass seed head

wintering

the gray blanket of november has been laid upon us. and i am not complaining. i particularly like this month of transition. and it is coming at a time while i needed a rest. i spent the entire day on the couch beside the fire reading Katherine May’s superb book called Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times. i highly recommend it. with caveats. it’s the kind of book where timing is everything–you must simply be in the mood to receive it. if you think you might be ready for it, it’s the perfect time of year to make a hot drink, sink into a big comfy chair, and spend an entire afternoon with katherine in her english seaside town of whistable. you won’t regret it.

lake superior beach rocks and cedar needles