Underwater

After the nearly nonstop rains of the past two weeks the ditches and creeks are clogged up and this has caused some serious flooding in our front yard!

Behold, our very own homegrown lake! Or a green lagoon.

When trees make lace

One mild afternoon in early November, H and I took a walk in the woods near our place. We were recovering from bouts with the flu, and needed to get some fresh air. The sky was that peculiarly brilliant blue of autumn, which while lacking the glare and white hot heat of summer, possesses extraordinary clarity. The air was sparkling fresh, it was like drinking eau de vie or a very crisp, green cider.



The thing about autumn is the first part is such a riot of glory: all those trees that look like they're on fire. The middle part, when the windstorms rise to buffet the leaves off the trees, has a quiet beauty all its own: this is when the trees reveal their bones, which are like tracery against the sky, or a particularly robust filigree of twig, branch, bark and trunk. Towards winter, their bare outlines against grey skies are even sparer. And it is then that you long for spring.







The image below reminds me of Robert Frost's Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, though of course we don't have snow yet.



Whose woods these are I think I know.



The only other sound's the sweep / Of easy wind and downy flake





The woods are lovely, dark, and deep.

Red leaves

Windstorms have dropped most of the gorgeous leaves from the trees. Winter is truly on its way.