Slipping Into Shorter Days

The sun continues to move to the left as it sets at the mouth of our small inlet from the larger river. Most days there are no clouds in the pale blue sky to catch the dwindling rays of that orange orb and create a jaw-dropping sunset, but the angle of the sun as it bounces off of the water is, in itself, a lovely event. Let me share. Below the sun reflects off the water to shine upward through the drying dogwood leaves in the early part of the sunset.

Then as the shadows darken, the water still hangs on to the last bit of golden light as if in a departing lover's embrace.

The saltbush has begun to lose its feathery seeds and is the last to kiss the sun goodbye.  While the air is mostly cooler now and I pull my jacket closer, the image is of warmth through my camera lens.

Color Most of the Year

I am one of those gardeners that want to squeeze the life out of the growing season by making sure something is blooming throughout the months until that first freeze. I have found that in late February I get started with the Lenten roses and move through the spring with bulbs that turn bold yellow faces to the winds and showers. My summer beds show lots of traditional flowers as well as traditional bedding annuals. Then comes the fall. In early fall which is our mid to late September, I get the asters. Huge bushes of starry flowers that reach out across my walkway and crowd against the boxwood. They attract the smaller and larger bees but not too many butterflies. They have no fragrance, but their abundance is glorious.

Once the starry blossoms close their heads I then look forward to my chrysanthemums, which also have no fragrance. I bought four new varieties this year to fill in some bare spaces where other perennials passed on. (I have no idea why my font changed here!)

That last one in the photo above is my favorite with such a rich autumn orange.  I pinch these back in August or whenever they want to bud so that I get a later autumn bloom and bushier plants.  They still have to be staked.  Yes, sometimes the ones you buy from the nursery in fall can be transplanted, but only the sturdy ones make it through my winter, so I get mums in the spring and plant them out at that time.  Then in November, everything except the pyracantha berries and a few trees loses their color and slumber until the next season.

Fall Gets Quiet

The days are undoubtedly shorter as I now get up before the sun and certainly go to bed long after the sun has set.  The leaves crinkle beneath my feet as I head out to the gate to head to the swamp for some duck box maintenance. The day is a perfect autumn blue-sky day.  The turtles in the swamp appreciate the warm afternoon sun after the cooler evenings.  They are slower and lethargic as fall moves on and seem less afraid of me. 

I lean against the bark of the tree and also enjoy the warmth of the sun.  I hear the crickets but they are timid in song. The frogs no longer sing.  As I head down the path that skirts the swamp I hear high crying.  The bald eagles have gathered in a small set of trees and make their twittering call as I invade their space.  Dozens of feathers at my feet mean they have been there grooming for some time.  I count four adults and more than six younger birds as they flee gracefully down the marsh.

The early mornings are sometimes fog filled as the water holds onto the day's heat and the night air kisses the surface of the cooler water and thus we get fog.   One of my favorite plants this time of year is the saltbush which is beginning to form its seed which will soon fly everywhere mimicking the first feathering snowfall.

And some of the best beauty is the velvet fog that makes you move more slowly and with greater peace.  

Falling in Love With Fall

The leaves on the tulip trees are crispy brown with a hint of yellow. They are falling like parachute jumpers spinning slowly to the ground below. They are not showy, but just the opening act. Cosmos are the second act this time of year. They are silky ballerinas with the last of the nectar before the butterflies drift south and the bees begin their dormancy.

I Do Not Like PIckey Eaters

More on birds on vacation.  These little thieves were in Banff National Park in Canada.

"Hey man, you better get moving.  The wife is already headed for the door!"

"Is that mustard?  Really?  Egad!

"Well, I will just eat around the edges before that waitress returns.  If I can just flip out this lettuce..."

City Birds

Europe has little that is wild and untrammeled over the centuries of civilization and wars.  They eat EVERYTHING over there, so many animals do not have much of a chance except in remote protected lands. In the city the birds have adapted to humans and no longer seem to fear them, but maybe they just tolerate us. I was able to get some closer photos in the city parks because the wild birds are somewhat "tame" birds and many have learned to beg for food.

Rooms Without Walls in the City

A healthy society needs lots of green space for its people. Green space to rest the eyes, green space to rest the weary body, green space to rest the tired ears, and green to rest the soul. Most cities accept and promote this sanctuary for its citizens. Below are two photo-paintings I created of the area outside the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam, Nederlands.  Perhaps inspired a bit by the art inside?

After all, if the leaders did not see the importance of letting in the natural world where could people fall in love?