before-and-after (1 or 2)
This is the first time I am trying a double post: a before and after, 24 hours apart. I have been doing a lot of these before-and-after pairs lately; Primarily because it it just Steve and me in the house now, so I can leave my STILL specimens on the floor, where I photographed them for as long as I want! No dog. No kids. Just a little accumulated dust to contend with. Of course, I would rather have the dog back, and the kids home again, but such is life.
Interrupted fern fronds in November (Claytosmunda)
before-and-after (2 or 2)
This is the first time I am trying a double post: a before and after, 24 hours apart. I have been doing a lot of these before-and-after pairs lately; Primarily because it it just Steve and me in the house now, so I can leave my STILL specimens on the floor, where I photographed them for as long as I want! No dog. No kids. Just a little accumulated dust to contend with. Of course, I would rather have the dog back, and the kids home again, but such is life.
Interrupted fern fronds in November (Claytosmunda)
not yet leaving the leaves
I absentmindedly picked up these two leaves because I liked the contrast of their rich colors. I thought I would add them to my growing, almost-out-of-control piles of workshop material, and maybe photograph them later. But in my cupped palm, as I walked back to the house, they slid into this position, like two hands with different colored skin connecting palm to palm. I thought, well, maybe the day after an election is the right day to post this image. Anyway, here’s to grasping for moments of whispered unity when division runs shouting through the streets.
two white oak leaves in November (Quercus alba)
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This morning I asked Gordon (my husband) what he saw in this photo. Without reading your description he said, “I see the rebirth of American democracy” and through our discussion, this poem emerged:
A DIFFERENT METAPHOR
We have alienated ourselves and others,
Isolating our own wrong thoughts
Into statues of rightness, immovable.
It is the worst hell—
Where binary choices halt choosing.
“Reach across the aisle,” they said.
But “they” did not see the clubs in our hands
And the violence we would do.
We need a different metaphor.
Rest yourselves now—two leaves in the palm of a hand,
Maintaining shape while sharing space.
Experience what could be true—
Difference that doesn’t divide
Dialogue that doesn’t distort.
Reawaken to hope,
Where choices make change,
And history has its turning points.reply
blushing symmetry
Burning bush is indeed remarkable in autumn. But my favorite ones are the bushes that do not get enough sun, and turn pink in fall instead of scarlet red. The softer the pink, the better as far as I am concerned. The beautiful symmetry––both horizontal and vertical––of these leaves make them one of my favorite materials to make repeating patterns and tessellations with. But alas, it takes patience to line up all those leaves just so, and this autumn has been so unusual and splendid that it is taking every minute of free time I have just to capture it before it all disappears on the wind.
burning bush in autumn (Euonymus alatus)
It is the harmony of the diverse parts,
their symmetry, their happy balance;
in a word it is all that introduces order,
all that gives unity,
that permits us to see clearly and to comprehend at once
both the ensemble and the details.
–Henri Poincare
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This photo affected me deeply and in the course of a day that was extremely chaotic, it brought calm.
EUONYMUS ALATUS
“What is your name and what does it mean?” I asked,
Of the winged Presence in front of me.
But she did not answer.
Instead, she hurled her arms into the wind
And danced with abandon—
A goddess at play.
Caught up in the pink and white
The noise of the world lessened
And settled into still.
“I AM WHO I AM—the good name with wings.”
I removed my shoes.
The place was holy.reply
no frost yet
I just googled to remind myself when the average historic first frost is in the Twin Cities: “The average or typical first fall freeze in the Minneapolis-St. Paul metro area is October 10 to October 11”. Welp, so we are two weeks behind average, which is not unheard of. But what is crazy is that I just looked at the forecast and there is no frost threat for two weeks. I am making hay, as they say, capturing as mush of the remaining fall color as I possibly can because as soon as November’s gray blanket descends, STILL will start to look very different.
Autumn Blaze Maple (Acer × freemanii ‘Jeffersred’), a hybrid tree bred from a cross between red maple (Acer rubrum) and silver maple (Acer saccharinum)
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In 2017 we experienced a fire in our area that burned four acres of our land and up to the door of our house. Had it not been for the Phos-Chek dropped by a plane, it too might have burned. As horrible as it was, I also found it beautiful—the flames and color and movement. When I saw this photo, instantly I was reminded of that experience:
The Fire of 2017
From the top of the plateau, a glow
Not yet horrible, just a glimmer and a glance.
Too soon it rises and leaps forward,
Like runner or hurdler, or heart on fire.
Consumed with consuming—
And passionate longing for its own desire,
Crawling into corners, this ravenous beast
Spreads itself ash
On a desolate earth—oblivion.And yet, I cannot look away.
Call it Sodom, Snake or what you want.
It is beautiful—
This flame of red and gold.
A maple cobra dancing in the air,
Swaying with brilliance to a hidden tune.
Leaping and dancing as it consumes.reply
