Impressions of Fall

I’m looking out the window watching snow fall. Dang!

The good news is that I don’t think it will stay on the ground long and I hope that we’ll have a little more fall weather before winter sets in for good.

Today I’m sharing

Impressions of Fall

in photographs, still life, and watercolor.

As the season turns and fewer leaves remain I find that I am drawn to focus on what still remains. Yesterday because rain was predicted mid-day, I went over to French Regional Park in the morning for a hike. And while I hiked not only did a few of the remaining leaves rain down on me but snowflakes fell intermittently as well.

I’m wearing gloves and a wool hat when I go out to hike now, though I’ve not pulled out my winter coat yet. Instead I am clinging to the illusion that it is still fall and layering flannel and fleece beneath my lighter fall coats.

Though the woods are more somber now, there is still color here and there. On the forest floor the maple seedlings are hanging onto their leaves longer than the mature trees overhead giving them a window of collecting a little more light for photosynthesis before going dormant for the winter.

Some of the smaller trees are also hanging on to their leaves longer. It’s risky business for a tree to do so but for those young trees struggling for a window of growth beneath a tall developed canopy it may be worth the risk.

Here is a poem that I discovered today that reminds us that in the midst of uncertainty we can still lay all our distractions down and live in the present moment.

Yes, We Can Talk

 

Having loved enough and lost enough,

I am no longer searching,

just opening.

 

No longer trying to make sense of pain,

but trying to be a soft and sturdy home

in which real things can land.

 

These are the irritations that rub into a pearl

 

So we can talk awhile

but then we must listen,

the way rocks listen to the sea

 

And we can churn at all that goes wrong

but then we must lay all distractions down,

and water every living seed.

And yes, on nights like tonight

I too feel alone, but seldom do I

face it squarely enough

to see that it is a door

into the endless breath

that has no breather

into the surf that human shells

call god.

   — Mark Nepo

What are your favorite impressions of fall?

Wishing you peace and joy.

May you walk in beauty.