fall flourishes
Nov. 3rd, 2022 08:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
marycatelliThe summer shadows are ceasing. The sunlight glows through trees, turning them scarlet or luminous gold or brilliant green.
Vast flock of birds rising, flitting, perching, on the trees, and on the corrugated back of signs. Dozens of birds can fit on a highway sign that way.
Some trees are flecked in their colors, red and yellow and green comingled, or flashes of red among a field of green. Others are enormous chunks of red leaves over enormous chunks of green. One had red below, but careful inspection reveals it as a sapling close by another tree.
Some trees have gilt-edges to leaves that are still green in the center.
All about the asters grow. Great enormous stands of purple in the midst of more autumnal colors. Along one path, they come in varieties: larger ones in deeper purple, smaller ones in paler shades, bleached often to white, among the low-growing plants turning burning red.
A bird is started from the underbrush, like a dove: a hawk, all checked pale brown and white, flying up from the ground. It takes it a minute to settle again, flying up higher, but finally it perches on a high, leafless branch, looking more regal and raptor like
The chicory still has its blue blooms, and the sunlight shines through to illuminate the hue like the sky.
A stretch of the forest floor is brilliant yellow -- none of it fallen leaves. Some of the understory is a mass of ferns, all turned yellow, and by it is a large stretch of brush, not quite the same yellow
A dove perches on the chair on the deck. It is perfectly brown, only a little variegated.
The trees are green but for a pie slice that is deep orange-brown.
A dog of some kind -- no, no leash -- a black tail -- and then I can study the fox staring back at it. Head on, its tail behind it, it looks rather like a cat because there is no reference for its size. After a bit it trots over the law, its body orange but its legs all black, and its tail haloed in black fur.
A tree burns with orange on one side, and on the side is a opal of red and green and orange and yellow.
Roses agleam -- with the sunlight pouring through, the pink petals and all the leaves look very much alike in their radiance and color.
Squirrels and a mourning dove skittering when started, all three the same shade of gray with the same variegation and the same touches of white and brown.
The sunlight gleaming through the burning bush makes it look more rosy than ablaze.
One tree is pure gleaming scarlet, and behind it another is a red so dark that it is crimson.
Trees line up in fiery shades: orange to the left, red to the right, and in the middle orange-red.
Down the misty highway with all the golden trees emerging from the mist into brilliance. After a time, the trees still are green but for ones here and there, brilliantly yellow and striking.
Stands a tree, almost bare, with a bough still a garland of pure red.
A hillside of all but bare trees has branches that still bear leaves, once red, now gentled to shades of pink.
A tree is silvery in the sunlight, but for the garlands of brilliant red on a handful of branches.
A burning bush sprout holds up a dozen rose leaves like petals.
A sunset sky: overhead one puff of cloud is pink as cotton candy. A little closer to the horizon, another is a pale, delicate shade of pink. The cloud by the horizon, where the sun is setting, is a cream color, almost white.
One tree is half fiery red and half emerald, with a diagonal slice between them. Another, with the same diagonal slice, is half burning orange and half bare, brown branches.
One tree, bare of leaves, is burning white in the sunlight, with a rich bronze behind it, and a muted green beside it, and a deep golden beneath. It clashed. Still more when the sunlight fails and in the cloud shadow the leafless tree is purely gray against the vivid color.
The butterfly weed has been letting loose one pod every several days and letting the enormous white fluff bear off the seeds. Now, a dozen all opened at once, the stand of butterfly weed looking like an enormous and loose cotton ball.
A sundog is brilliant in red and a bit of yellow -- with no partner on the other side. Except that within minutes, a sundog burns there, a splendid full one, all the colors clear out to violet, an enormous arc -- and the partner on the other side is a bit longer and more colorful
The hillside is covered with forest. Here and there are trees that are sober brown leaves. Others are yellow turning brown, and orange turning brown, all rich, subtle shades, but the vast bulk of branches are purely gray.
The frost on the petunias stops as if cut off by a knife where the shadow ceases; the sunlit flowers are free. Those in the shadow are deep, deep red, and the red and the green of their leaves are exquisitely edged with silver crystal. (By the afternoon, the drab marring of the blooms is clear, but it's beautiful for the moment.)
The sound is the first warning, but two skeins, of no more than half a dozen geese appear with the morning and fly through the sky in their ragged v's.
Vast flock of birds rising, flitting, perching, on the trees, and on the corrugated back of signs. Dozens of birds can fit on a highway sign that way.
Some trees are flecked in their colors, red and yellow and green comingled, or flashes of red among a field of green. Others are enormous chunks of red leaves over enormous chunks of green. One had red below, but careful inspection reveals it as a sapling close by another tree.
Some trees have gilt-edges to leaves that are still green in the center.
All about the asters grow. Great enormous stands of purple in the midst of more autumnal colors. Along one path, they come in varieties: larger ones in deeper purple, smaller ones in paler shades, bleached often to white, among the low-growing plants turning burning red.
A bird is started from the underbrush, like a dove: a hawk, all checked pale brown and white, flying up from the ground. It takes it a minute to settle again, flying up higher, but finally it perches on a high, leafless branch, looking more regal and raptor like
The chicory still has its blue blooms, and the sunlight shines through to illuminate the hue like the sky.
A stretch of the forest floor is brilliant yellow -- none of it fallen leaves. Some of the understory is a mass of ferns, all turned yellow, and by it is a large stretch of brush, not quite the same yellow
A dove perches on the chair on the deck. It is perfectly brown, only a little variegated.
The trees are green but for a pie slice that is deep orange-brown.
A dog of some kind -- no, no leash -- a black tail -- and then I can study the fox staring back at it. Head on, its tail behind it, it looks rather like a cat because there is no reference for its size. After a bit it trots over the law, its body orange but its legs all black, and its tail haloed in black fur.
A tree burns with orange on one side, and on the side is a opal of red and green and orange and yellow.
Roses agleam -- with the sunlight pouring through, the pink petals and all the leaves look very much alike in their radiance and color.
Squirrels and a mourning dove skittering when started, all three the same shade of gray with the same variegation and the same touches of white and brown.
The sunlight gleaming through the burning bush makes it look more rosy than ablaze.
One tree is pure gleaming scarlet, and behind it another is a red so dark that it is crimson.
Trees line up in fiery shades: orange to the left, red to the right, and in the middle orange-red.
Down the misty highway with all the golden trees emerging from the mist into brilliance. After a time, the trees still are green but for ones here and there, brilliantly yellow and striking.
Stands a tree, almost bare, with a bough still a garland of pure red.
A hillside of all but bare trees has branches that still bear leaves, once red, now gentled to shades of pink.
A tree is silvery in the sunlight, but for the garlands of brilliant red on a handful of branches.
A burning bush sprout holds up a dozen rose leaves like petals.
A sunset sky: overhead one puff of cloud is pink as cotton candy. A little closer to the horizon, another is a pale, delicate shade of pink. The cloud by the horizon, where the sun is setting, is a cream color, almost white.
One tree is half fiery red and half emerald, with a diagonal slice between them. Another, with the same diagonal slice, is half burning orange and half bare, brown branches.
One tree, bare of leaves, is burning white in the sunlight, with a rich bronze behind it, and a muted green beside it, and a deep golden beneath. It clashed. Still more when the sunlight fails and in the cloud shadow the leafless tree is purely gray against the vivid color.
The butterfly weed has been letting loose one pod every several days and letting the enormous white fluff bear off the seeds. Now, a dozen all opened at once, the stand of butterfly weed looking like an enormous and loose cotton ball.
A sundog is brilliant in red and a bit of yellow -- with no partner on the other side. Except that within minutes, a sundog burns there, a splendid full one, all the colors clear out to violet, an enormous arc -- and the partner on the other side is a bit longer and more colorful
The hillside is covered with forest. Here and there are trees that are sober brown leaves. Others are yellow turning brown, and orange turning brown, all rich, subtle shades, but the vast bulk of branches are purely gray.
The frost on the petunias stops as if cut off by a knife where the shadow ceases; the sunlit flowers are free. Those in the shadow are deep, deep red, and the red and the green of their leaves are exquisitely edged with silver crystal. (By the afternoon, the drab marring of the blooms is clear, but it's beautiful for the moment.)
The sound is the first warning, but two skeins, of no more than half a dozen geese appear with the morning and fly through the sky in their ragged v's.