It seems only yesterday that I was on the cusp of Thanksgiving, wondering how summer had become but a memory. Now the winter solstice is here, with Christmas and a New Year looming.
The obvious question is this: where did Autumn go?
At the back of my mind is something more elemental.
How do I slow down the passage of time?
Well, this is embarrassing. My last blog post was on August 14: bees hard at work in the blazing sun. Now it’s Thanksgiving. The trees are mostly bare, the ground is mostly covered with leaves. Chilly winds whip dark clouds across the sky, easing from time to time to let woodsmoke tickle the nose. Life is full of turkey anticipation, apple cider wishes, and pumpkin-spice everything. I have just one question:
Where the heck did Summer go?
It’s getting annoying. The constant, imperious interruptions. Can’t a girl get some peace?
I have been promising Wild Edge readers a Finger Lakes series for weeks. But every time I try to sit down and edit the photos, something else intervenes. From outside my window, the call comes, beckoning – no, demanding.
GO OUTSIDE. BRING YOUR CAMERA. NOT LATER.
NOW.
I tried, but failed, to resist the siren song of September. October was no different. It’s the trees this time. Changing day-by-day to brilliant gold and crimson. The march of the seasons goes relentlessly on, no matter what. One ignores it at one’s peril.
Once again, I am at Lady Autumn’s command.
The Summer Queen looked dubiously at the knights-apprentice kneeling before her. “You want to take them where?” she inquired of the wood elf beside them.
“To Dibble’s Quarry, Your Majesty.”
“You would take them to the Hall of the Mountain King? Why?”
“Because it’s time, Your Majesty. They have served you well, and deserve the chance to prove their mettle on this quest. Besides, I think they’d enjoy it.”
“ENJOY IT?!” the Queen convulsed in gales of laughter. “Oh, child, you do amuse me! Very well, for your pluck alone, I shall grant them this quest. Perhaps the Mountain King will find them amusing as well. Please bear my greetings to His Highness. But be sure you do not return without his token! Though I will be surprised if you succeed in this quest. It’s a rare visitor to his Hall that has the fortitude to win such a boon.”
“You… you don’t think the King will be there, surely?” the elf asked in a quavering voice.
“I know not. The Mountain King is no consort of mine, he does not answer to me. I bear no responsibility for what may come to pass should you find him at home.”
For the first time, the respectfully lowered eyes of one knight-apprentice looked up from the ground. “We are prepared, My Queen, and ready for all challenges. What could go wrong?”
As the travelers turned to leave, the Summer Queen wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. “What could go wrong, indeed!” Continue reading
Once upon a time, feeling neglected, Lady Autumn wept.
And the Court of the Seasons’ calendar pages turned. It wasn’t long before the Court Photographer awoke to see the calendar had turned to an entirely new year. Startled to find herself deep in the Winter Queen’s leafless territory, she wondered where the Autumn Lady had gone.
“How can it be that I have missed my Lady’s appearance?” she cried. “Surely it was just yesterday that the Summer Queen and I were hunting for mushrooms. What happened to Autumn?” Continue reading
Some seasons, the Summer Queen’s kingdom is brittle and dry. Not so this year. This year the Weather Gods have gifted her realm with copious moisture. It seems as if it’s rained since July. Trees, shrubs and herbs are thriving, and the forest is lush and green, just as the Her Highness would have it. No corner of the land has gone wanting for rain.
With worries cast aside, the Summer Queen has time for play. She has decorated the forest with dainty, whimsical and just plain weird creations. Continue reading
I can see clearly now, the rain is gone.
The world looks different since I had cataract surgery. Brighter. Sharper. Cleaner. It’s as if I’d been looking through a very dirty windshield for a very long time, and someone came along and washed it clean.
And oh, the colors! Deeper, richer, more lifelike. Just in time for arrival of Lady Spring, dancing across a carpet of wildflowers in a shimmering gown that grows greener every day.
Without further ado, here is a sampling of my more colorful world.
Looking down on the bud and three bracts (not leaves) of a trillium not yet in bloom. Her Ladyship’s accent colors may be subtle or showy, but she sure doesn’t skimp on the green. What color will this be when it blooms? Red? Pink? White? Yellow? Purple?
A violet. The name says it all.
I can see all obstacles in my way…
It’s not just seeing the obstacles. It’s the depth perception, a critical sense that had gone missing for some time. It’s been hard to accurately judge where to put my feet, and I have a small phobia about falling.
This past weekend, we went to a nature preserve where the trail proved more challenging than we expected.
It was a narrow path that clung to the side of a steep ravine high above a creek. A thick layer of dry leaves hid the rocks and roots along the path, and made for a lot of slipping and sliding.
Not long ago, I would have been very uncomfortable, and possibly would have even turned back.
Not now. With more confidence in my vision, I really enjoyed this hike. I clambered up and down rock outcroppings like a mountain goat, and even made the numerous stream crossings easily.
Plus, there were wildflowers!
Dutchman’s breeches, one of our spring ephemerals, wildflowers that bloom in the brief time between when the snow melts and the trees leaf out.
Spring ephemerals carpet the forest floor with small splashes of color. They have a short time in which to grow, feed, bloom and set seed for the next year.
It seems Her Ladyship’s small footmen have hung their trousers out on the laundry line.
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind…
The last few months I’ve been in a sort of creative funk.
Winter is partially to blame for that, especially a winter of bare brown earth and trees.
Not now. I find my enthusiasm for photography is awakening as the earth awakens.
Lady Spring has arrived, and I can see her beauty!
And here it is! The aptly named spring beauty, one of our earliest wildflowers, pretty in pink.
White is a color, too.
My cataracts had turned black and white to dark gray and yellowish tan. For an amateur photographer, seeing true black and true white again is a joy. Especially when the white adorns one of Her Ladyship’s loveliest flowers.
Bloodroot gets its name, not from the creamy white petals and bright golden stamens, but from the orange-red juice in its underground rhizomes.
A trout lily nods in the shade of the forest floor.
The scent of Lady Spring’s perfume drifts on the warm air, leading my eyes to crabapple blossoms of rose and white. Oh, that sky! I don’t remember the sky being this blue…
It’s gonna be a bright, bright sunshiny day.
What do you see?
Lyrics to “I Can See Clearly Now” by Jimmy Nash
Lady Autumn drifted through the forest on a sparkling day, leaves rustling crisply under her feet. Wrapping her cloak tightly around herself against the chill, she swept her amber eyes across the landscape, seeking spices and herbs for her harvest soup.
A main ingredient was needed. Pumpkin?
Butternut squash?
Or perhaps…
Cantaloupe?
Ah, a pinch of saffron.
Some cinnamon and nutmeg.
Russet potatoes, finally chopped to give the broth some heft.
And mushrooms. Always mushrooms.
Already her imagination conjured the aroma of bubbling broth, hearty and savory, laced with the essence of wood smoke.
A zest of lemon would do nicely, she thought.
Even a little lime.
Nuts would have been a nice touch. Alas, one of Her Ladyship’s small footmen had found these acorns first. A field mouse, a chipmunk, or perhaps a gray squirrel had taken them for his larder.
Lady Autumn didn’t mind. She would not begrudge her creatures a tasty and nutritious morsel when they have need of such sustenance.
A splash of claret.
A good soup tastes better with wine, Her Ladyship knew.
A sprinkle of sage…
Ginger…
And a generous dash of paprika to top it off.
Lady Autumn walked through the forest on a golden afternoon, gathering the seasonings for a fine harvest soup.
What do you think it will taste like?
The Winter Queen is imperious and aloof, demanding and notoriously fickle. This year she opted to remain far to the north, leaving us in the gentle arms of Lady Autumn until late in January. Then Her Majesty swept in on howling winds of ice, and buried us in feet of snow.
She is beautiful, and her passage leaves a photographer is eager to get outside to admire the winter wonderland. But first her demands must be met: two days of shoveling, and the passage of enough time for the roads to clear.
Many are the photos I have of the lowlands wreathed in snow: Heinz Refuge, Valley Forge, Ridley Creek. Lacking are any images of snowy scenes from on high. Nearly a week after the blizzard, I set forth on a journey to visit the Winter Queen in her mountain fastness.
Cardinals kept me company as I hiked up the narrow channel of compacted snow where others had walked before me. The soft sigh of the wind in the trees whispered above the rhythm of the wet crunch of my footfalls and squishy creak of my trekking poles.
I wondered what I would find when I reached the Pinnacle. How would the Susquehanna River below be dressed? Open dark water? Or would it be garbed in Her Majesty’s mantle of white?
The wind quickened as I neared the Pinnacle. The first glimpse through the trees made me gasp.
My heart soared and I hurried to the overlook.
Yes! The Winter Queen has indeed been here!
The evidence of her frigid touch is everywhere, frosting the hills rising above the river…
…and tracing the surface of the ice in intricate swirls and waves.
On previous visits to the Holtwood Gorge Pinnacle, we discovered a wondrous place just down the trail.
It’s a place where pine trees and rhodendrons stand guard over a garden of rocks.
In dry weather, it is a fun boulder scramble to the farthest of the rocks to look straight down to the water. When the Winter Queen is in residence, it requires much more caution. I clambered carefully down the rocks, often on my butt, very tentative when on my feet. Sometimes my foot plunged through the snow to my knee.
There was the point beyond which I would not go. The Winter Queen cares nothing for the safety of her admirers.
But, oh, what there was to admire! I sat on a dry boulder for a long time, soaking in the sights and sounds of the Gorge in snow. The wind howled through the trees, a whisper no longer. I felt it stinging my face, as the cold seeped into my legs from the rough rock below me.
Boulders loomed above me, their surfaces braided in stripes of dark grey, white and rust, dusted with lichens and puddles of snow. Three Bald Eagles circled past, and a kettle of Turkey Vultures.
A flock of Robins passed through, flitting noisily through the shrubs. Did the Winter Queen take offense at the cheery presence of these harbingers of spring in her frozen domain?
Slowly I made my way back up the boulders.
The climb was tricky; I had learned the hard way not to trust that there would be solid ground beneath every patch of snow.
I used my hands and knees more than my feet.
Walking the trail was easier.
At the top, I turned once again to drink in the wonder of the Her Majesty’s creation, the pearly white ribbon winding through dark hills and twisting out of sight.
As if to remind me of the Winter Queen’s capricious temperament, when I reached my car, it began to snow.
The Harvest Ball approaches, and Her Ladyship has dressed in her finest. Bedecked and bejeweled, she admires herself in the mirror.
What does she see there?
Adventure?
Fellowship?
What does Lady Autumn see when she looks in her mirror?
Elegance?
Radiance?
What does Lady Autumn see when she looks in her mirror?
Harmony?
Exuberance?
Majesty?
What does Lady Autumn see when she looks in her mirror?
Serenity.
The Wild Edge 