The morns are meeker than they were —
The nuts are getting brown —
The berry’s cheek is plumper —
The Rose is out of town.
The maple wears a gayer scarf —
The field a scarlet gown —
Lest I sh’d be old fashioned
I’ll put a trinket on.
~ Emily Dickinson
(The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #32)
The breezes taste
Of apple peel.
The air is full
Of smells to feel –
Ripe fruit, old footballs,
Drying grass,
New books and blackboards
Chalk in class.
The bee, his hive
Well-honey, hums
While Mother cuts
Chrysanthemums.
Like plates washed clean
With suds, the days
Are polished with
A morning haze.
~ John Updike
(September)
~ autumn equinox ~
Happy we who can bask in this warm September sun, which illumines all creatures, as well when they rest as when they toil, not without a feeling of gratitude.
~ Henry David Thoreau
(A Week on the Concord & Merrimack Rivers)
The last of Summer is Delight –
Deterred by Retrospect.
‘Tis Ecstasy’s revealed Review –
Enchantment’s Syndicate.
To meet it – nameless as it is –
Without celestial Mail –
Audacious as without a knock
To walk within the Veil.
~ Emily Dickinson
(The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #1380)
During every week from April to September there are, on the average, ten wild plants coming into first bloom. In June as many as a dozen species may burst their buds on a single day. No man can heed all of these anniversaries; no man can ignore all of them. He who steps unseeing on May dandelions may be hauled up short by August ragweed pollen; he who ignores the ruddy haze of April elms may skid his car on the fallen corollas of June catalpas. Tell me of what plant-birthday a man takes notice, and I shall tell you a good deal about his vocation, his hobbies, his hay fever, and the general level of his ecological education.
~ Aldo Leopold
(A Sand County Almanac, and Sketches Here & There)
Today I have more pictures than words. The children are back in school for the year and the mood at the beach has changed dramatically. Places and moments of solitude are easier to find…
There are no more french fries and hot dog buns for the gulls to snatch, so they must return to more natural ways of feeding themselves. Humans may resume fishing, too.
Not only is it great having a sister to share an occasional walk with, it’s handy to have a geologist pointing out that the sand tinted red is garnet sand.
There are more bird than human footprints now…
I’ve decided that my camera is an Impressionist at heart, preferring a windswept mood to sharp detail…
It’s almost noon. Not a soul in sight. Serenity…
