It was a beautiful autumn-gold day when I left the house this morning. By the time I got down to the river, the world was cloaked in fog.
It wasn’t the walk that I’d planned and so much more lovely than that.
With no-one else about, all sounds muffled, the other side of the water swallowed up by the mist, only the cry of the birds for company –
Everything was still, everything was muted, everything was dreamy.
It was like walking for an hour in another world, as far from the busyness of ‘reality’ as you could be.
And for the umpteen hundredth time I found myself thinking: I will never find the words for this, the gorgeousness of the world; no photographs can ever do more than hint at its loveliness, and my thankfulness.
swallows’ silence the autumn moon
Photography helps you to shift perspective, to see things you wouldn’t have noticed before, to notice things about the world that previously would have passed you by.
Looking through water – a puddle, a reflection, the still waters of a river – can show you things in a different light:
The first hints of the colours, changing
An impressionist painting
Trees pointing skyward, catching my eye in the water as I bent down to watch a leaf. The way the water stretches at the edges of the stone is fascinating to me – I’m sure there’s a physics lesson in there somewhere!
An early leaf, fallen in a pool of the Old Water
The promise of the reds, yellows, oranges to come, the water of the stream, bending round the corners of the leaf.
However many times you think you’ve seen a season.
However many times you think you’ve walked a walk.
There is always something new to see.
Always, always, always.
I was uploading some photos to Flickr the other day and realised I had a set which captured quite nicely the mood and feel of my favourite local walk (a circuit from the front door, by the edge of the river, to a waterfall, back along by the hedgerows).
I thought you might enjoy a peek into this beautiful corner of the world in the late autumn – when the oaks are still golden, just before the leaves really start to fall. Continue reading “Late Autumn Galloway Photo Walk”
I would love to have time, to make time, to write the details of the changes of the seasons.
For now though I rely on the photos I take as I walk. It’s a simple but powerful way of creating a photo journal of the seasons.
Autumn came and went last week with a blast of high winds, heavy rain, then the first hard frost. Bonfire Night (the 5th of November) marked the season’s turn, as it so often does.
I was glad when the frost came that I had taken photo after photo in the two months that had gone before, capturing colour changes and leaf falls, the way the trees first strut their stuff in their autumn glory then reveal their inner structure as the leaves fall, and show themselves, bare and unadorned, more beautiful than ever, how the paths transform into carpets of leaves, into invitations stretching out before us, how we see reminder after reminder to express what is good and beautiful, but also to be ready to let it go and let it fall. Continue reading “A Photo Journal of the Seasons”
If only I could paint the peace of this moment.
If only I could write you a poem.
If only I could tell you how the path dropped down through the woodland of the Lednock,
how the trail led us to the side of the water,
how the trees had shed their autumn leaves into the falls of the water,
how the river stilled at just this moment and the red leaves floated past,
so slowly, oh so slowly,
for all the world like a procession,
like a religious ceremony,
a procession of confetti leaves,
floating down the river,
catching my breath,
spilling my tears in wonder.
Be good-natured and untidy in your exuberance
~ Mary Oliver
I found this quote during the week: happy co-incidence – it fitted so perfectly with a word that has been playing on my own lips as I walk by and notice the unruly, outrageous wildness of the hedgerows in this harvest season.
Exuberance is really the only word for it. Yes: exuberance
an overflowing amount; an outburst; an abundance
Used to describe an exuberance of content of fancy, of foliage, of happiness, of imagination.
Yes: the word is perfect.
And although sometimes I find it hard to capture the look of abundance in the hedgerows, there is something about this time of year that draws your eye in to the detail, to the specificity of the plants, ripening, and the season, turning. It’s a mixture of colour, thickening
plants, delighting, in their own perfect form.
Truly an exuberance of the imagination.