It’s the dying time o’ year again. In Seattle and surrounding areas, that means rain, followed by rain, and showers, then some rain, and this is an especially wet fall so we’ve had some rain to go with our rain. When it’s not raining, it threatens to rain, and the sun is a distant memory. Oh, and the leaves were really spectacular and gorgeous, but it was raining, and then before the sun came out, there was some rain with extra-strong wind, and when the sun briefly emerged, most of the pretty leaves were in soggy heaps on the ground, sometimes with the tree still attached.
But there were a few times when the clouds would clear and the sun would glow through the few remaining red and gold leaves, turning them into nature’s own stained glass, and I’d slip out of the building on breaks and snap away furiously, trying to capture that fleeting loveliness that, to me, is the only bloody good thing about this season. Aside from Halloween, of course.
I am, however, feeling a bit gothic, what with all the dark gloomy days. So this song will fit the theme for three reasons: firstly, it’s called “Leaves.” Secondly, it’s kind of gothic and gloomy, what with that background and if you listen to the words. Thirdly, in the midst of the gloom, and the leaves, you’ve got something very bright and lovely glowing all over the place. In my photos, it’s the leaves; in this song, it’s Anneke van Giersbergen, who for some reason maintains a bright beaming grin whilst singing about losing someone probably forever.
That’s always intrigued me.
Leaves are kinda like that, too. “Hey, it’s butt-ass freezing cold, and wet, and we’re dying, and we’re all pretty and shiny bright colors, yay!”
Arboreal chemistry is really kind of interesting. Someday, perhaps, I’ll delve into my old notes on the subject and write you a treatise on why these riotous colors appear. It was actually fascinating. But right now, I’m supposed to be writing a bunch of geology stuff, so I’d best refrain from biological byways.
This is sort of like compensation for the frogs. I miss my froggies. I didn’t get to see many this year – they’d moved to a part of the ditch where they could be better hidden, but I could walk down by the water and I’d hear them go plop as they fled. I am probably not a nice person, but I did like hearing they were there. Too bad I couldn’t do that without scaring the shit out of them.
One of them always screamed, this little gasping cry like a squeak toy, before it jumped. It was my favorite. Now, of course, it’s too cold for them, so when I walk along their ditch I’m left looking at dying plants. Which can be interesting, too, but don’t tend to leap into the water with little squawks of alarm.
One of the things I wish I had more time to do is just stand there and look at things. I mean really look. These unintentional works of art really are remarkable.
On nice (or at least not-sopping-wet) days, I like to take a quick walk to the creek on break. Some days, though, I don’t make it there, because nature has staged an art show.
In this case, it was a tree that had held on to its leaves in defiance of the wind storm. Some of those leaves were brilliant red.
Some of them were still green. And I wish my camera had been more amenable to the idea of photographing red against green in brilliant sunlight, because it was really remarkable and breath-taking, but my little point-and-shoot couldn’t deal with it. But this will give you an idea of what the whole looked like.
This season does have its compensations. I just wish they’d last a bit longer…