From an early afternoon gray-day ramble down Piney Woods Church Road, I offer these two suspended moments: a curled leaf, hanging by a single thread to a dried stalk of hoary mountainmint, and a last lingering water droplet clinging to a Russian olive, reflecting trees and sky.
I enjoyed my late afternoon stroll down Piney Woods Church Road today, but nothing particularly dramatic or noteworthy jumped out at me. I did find the fallen bright yellow leaf entrancing somehow — another for my collection of roadbed still-lifes.
I was feeling a bit down and disconnected as I took my afternoon journey down Piney Woods Church Road. My mood seeped nto this image and its title, I think. There is a touch of melancholy to this image of a half-eaten pecan nut (left behind by a gray squirrel, no doubt), resting on a fencepost at the edge of a roadside horse pasture. An old mule barn provides a blurry blue-gray geometric form in the background.
I supposed my eyes were trained to seek out patches of green and red in juxtaposition along Piney Woods Church Road, after I stopped to photograph a brilliant red ribbon and bit of artificial pine that festooned a roadside mailbox. I actually took a number of photographs of that ribbon, covered in several places with newly-fallen brown leaves. Still, I find this later, and much more natural, bit of red and green far more enticing: a single dark green blade of grass stands next to a tiny sweetgum sapling with bright red leaves. The image forms a natural holiday tableau, equally fitting for Christmas or the Winter Solstice.
After 311 outings down Piney Woods Church Road this year, I will confess that, while each day ineluctably brings new wonders, some days are far more wondrous than others. There are days that I drag my feet, stop everywhere to look for something inviting to photograph, and still reach the far end of the road without a single photograph. Then, nearly desperate, I find something satisfying enough to be sufficient, and I hurry off home. There are other days, however, like today — days when everywhere I look there are new possibilities for the camera lens, new glimpses into nature’s riches just a short distance beyond my back door. Those are the days when I return home with 40, 60, 80 or more photographs, and I cannot choose between them all.
My late afternoon visit today was a magical autumn ramble. Everywhere I looked, the colors of the season blazed forth in all their glory.
Ready to greet me upon my arrival was this sassafras tree, on fire with shades of red, orange, and yellow.
Further down the road, a lone hickory still glowed with leaves of yellow-orange.
The late-day sun shone through strands of horsehair on a barbed wire fence along the roadway, beckoning me near.
Even a roadside grass long gone to seed seemed touched with glory.
Nearby, a backlit leaf of a white oak sapling nearly overwhelmed me with its brilliant colors.
Even a muscadine leaf — a subject of numerous photographs across the span of the year — was illuminated with such beauty that I simply had to take its picture yet again.
Perhaps the most amazing discovery of all was not a leaf, but an insect visitor. I was delighted to encounter this Buckeye (Junonia coenia) resting in the sunlight beside the road. For all the flowers that have bloomed over the past half-dozen months, this was the first Buckeye I have seen on my walk. And there was not a flower in sight!
