Moving and Shaking

As I posted recently, the buffleheads are now in the river. I can catch their soft white cheeks in the early morning sun. Many of the geese have returned for the winter. Thousands of starlings cruised through last night completing a marvelous ballet in the skies before moving on to greener pastures south. A robin, usually the sign of spring in these parts, appeared in a tree one mid-morning. He just sat there looking about for some time. Then he ventured into the heated birdbath. The temperature outside was very low 40sF.

An hour or less later a dozen of his pals showed up. Maybe he was the forward scout?

Company for Sunset

The grand opening of holidays is now over and people are getting ready for the next event as they loosen their belts and pants.

Our dinner was followed by the sunset.  When you live on the water a setting sun can kiss the surface of the water and then send the red blush into the few remaining trees that stand along the shoreline. (If you click on the photos you get a closer look.)

It is as if the woods are on fire.

Those leaves that are coppery brown in the light of mid-day glow into firey peaches and burning reds.

I was skipping to the dock to catch the best of the sunset on this very cold Thanksgiving evening.

As I walked toward the end of the dock I heard the confusion of bufflehead ducks that had been taking shelter underneath.  My appearance frightened them and I was unprepared for what could have been good photos and ended in hurried blurs.

There is no whoosh or whistle as they fly, but a sort of stuttering chuckle as they fleed away.  They stay close to the water.

They landed a safe distance away, two small groups of dark dots, and we watched the last of the sunset together.

Lessons from a 400 Year Old Tree

Do you think the young man is listening?

On the Cusp

Mornings are shy this time of year and sneak up well after the second cup of coffee has been finished. Mornings also twinkle as if they had been weeping from sadness or laughter in the pre-dawn yet still hesitate in showing these emotions. I walk quietly in the coldness, a lone searcher of shadow and light, and see a bird (or tw0) dart to hide here and there among the autumn leaves still clinging to the branches. Everyone is shy it seems or is it that they have become aware of their mortality facing the cold months ahead?  Are they careful to push their way forward, tracking each movement as if it might be their last?

Kaleidoscopic

This season, like spring, is a swift season. It is kaleidoscopic in its changes and if you blink your yard looks different the next time you focus.

Liquid Color

Below were taken at a restaurant in Honolulu, Hawaii where my husband and I ate the rare expensive breakfast when we lived there as graduate students. We re-visited on this last trip.  

Below some photos of those jewel-toned koi at the restaurant. The first four are tweaked with photoshop and filtering. The last one is not photoshopped except for a bit of sharpening (not shot at sports mode!) and exposure control. Do you have a favorite?

Patience

The nights are cool but by afternoon an Indian summer warmth returns for a few hours. I have left everything weedy and untrimmed because new studies show that an abundance of insects that overwinter is good for your garden and good for the birds(!). Actually, a laziness in the bones has kept me from kneeling and weeding and cutting over an altruistic agenda. The mums are in bloom and while a bit shaggy from nights of rain, still trying to shine forth with their fall fashion show. The droop of the mums below is not the well-trained Japanese arching. Just my version of neglect.

And the cold nights have not removed or put to sleep the six-legged visitors that wait patiently for winter.

The Turn of the Season

With the days shrinking into a shorter sunshine and the flush of cooler air as soon as the sun sinks below the horizon, we know that our canoe outings are limited. We slipped the canoe onto the mirrored surface of the water last evening within an hour of sunset, knowing we had to hurry if we wanted to return in some light.

Our leaf color is not going to peak into dramatic beauty, but we still get some glow.

The geese have been letting us know of their arrival. Like temporary migrants, they arrive tired and hungry and take over the nearby cornfield shouting and calling for the newer arrivals to clear as they attempt their landing. Last night approached 1,000!  Some just gave up and headed up our finger of the river into the open mowed area at the edge of a tiny marsh.  By nightfall they must watch for fox. 

They flew to the left and to the right.  Their squawking and honking and panicked noise belied their gracefulness in flight.

Many will winter over on the cold waters as the snow falls and they will gab loudly for several hours in the middle of the night, making me wake up and turn to the other side.

Wonderment

When I stand admiring the "skin" of trees that stand the test of time, I sometimes wonder why we do not admire the beauty of the skin of humans that stand the test of time? 

She Waited

I was somewhat deflated on our ride home to see leaves in browns and grays and faded khaki, but no golds or coppers or reds. We had been told that autumn would be muted due to the heavy rains earlier. But when I got to my yard I saw my faithful sugar maple, an alien to this area, throwing off her best colors in the angled fall sunlight.

The two-year-old mum waved her complimentary colors in the foreground.

I never get the leaves as bug-free, but decorated in lacy teeth marks.

I even have many zinnias still in bloom!

Speed Dial

When traveling with 30 somethingś life is on speed dial. We are up early and out near sunrise to beat the tourists or to catch and inter-island flight. This morning is the first in 10 days that we are sleeping in and I can blog with a leisure cup of coffee. I have walked miles and miles each day! I have seen tropical fish, tropical gods, and tropical plants all while enjoying tropical breezes. The avoidance of tropical drinks maybe will lead to loss of weight. I am sleeping like a log each night. Somewhat dreading re-entry to early winter this weekend. Aloha.

Surviving that Long Distance Storm

Hurricane Michael came all the way up to my mid-Atlantic home and dropped 3 inches in 8 hours last night. The winds were unusually strong but not a single tree gave in. Even the cosmos survived the night of being pelted.

Neighbors and Visitors

He/She has never been able to fly more than a few feet.

A desert tortoise from Africa

I have noticed this week: Our resident gray frog that lives in the BBQ and jumps to cling to the deck railing for the hours that we use it, has gotten larger this year. He communicates with two other frogs that live in the trees in the backyard. While grilling, the cook can hear their conversation, but not really understand what is going on. It does sound lovely. 

There was a PAIR of Brown Thrashers on the back lawn early yesterday. This is very unusual as we only see them a few times in the fall and never together. They have an elegant velvet brown body and spent less than an hour violently turning over leaves looking for food. 

We have numerous box turtles in our woods and today I saw a bright yellow one crossing the backyard in search of some leaf or bug. He is young and unmarked and hubby is mowing today, so we must be careful. 

The Flickers are back in abundance looking for worms and bugs in the open areas on the side of the driveway. They are noisy and wary and fly to the oaks and tulip tree branches when I am out and about. 

The two in the photos above are captive and were at the festival the other day. The turtle is kept by a local petting zoo and the Screech owl cannot fly and is being kept by a naturalist.

A Roomy Studio

I have retreated into my digital art studio for a little peace of mind and hope my sharing with you gives you some peace of mind.  (The nice thing about a digital studio is that you have lots of room for storage of the art.)

This Time of Year

The dogwoods are the first to show their color.

The last party guests to leave are hanging on through the cooler nights and warm days. The cosmos draw many pollinators in the fall.  The big "flutterbyes" are mostly gone with just the little ones and the skippers drinking at the zinnia blossoms. The zinnias are crazy in abundance this year.

The asters below are the most prolific as this is their season.

The Little White People

The rains diminish and leave behind the mushrooms. These are in my herb bed and the size of baseballs at this stage!  They are white.

The hole may be from some nibbler or just because there was a weakness in the cap. Most of them have some type of hole.  I posted on FB and one commenter said it looked like it was singing.

Is it just me or do you see a face above? Looks to me like this guy got into some fight.  At this stage, the mushroom is the size of a salad plate!

The view when you take shelter from the rain.

Just a Week or Two or Three

This time of year the Baccharis bush is beginning its bloom and later transition into feathery seeds that float over the shoreline down by my dock. The setting sun paints them in relief this time of year.

They are hardy and a bit fragrant like sage.

The golden evening light is longer and warmer than summer or winter when the sun falls to the autumn angles. All of the shadows are more dramatic.

This is also the time of the year when I get perfect sunsets over the water before the sun moves to the left and sets over the peninsula of land that protects our finger of the river. It is the best time to catch sunset photos. These photos are the smile worthy when the waters are calm like a liquid mirror.

Then the sun crests over the distant farmland and I can then attempt a sunset photo. I patiently wait through all of the stages. This time of year the temperatures are perfect, the biting insects are gone, and the only noise is the baitfish slapping the water ahead of the few striped bass that are chasing them into the edges of the river at my feet.

Patience as the sky blushes even deeper red.