Monday, October 29, 2012


Monday, October 29, 2012.  Even the fallen leaves have sought shelter, glistening in the corner of ramp.  Every color of them has come together, tossed about and blown asunder.  In the darkness, only the flash of my camera illuminates the red and the orange and shines on the yellow. They rest a bit, before they will be called again into the swirling pull of the next gust.


Sunday, October 28, 2012.  Red leaves gently harbor a stray brown, welcoming it into a soft embrace.  This is a red that Vreeland probably appreciated at one time or another.  Singular, occurring just this once, in this shade and sheen.  It might repeat itself year after year, but not in its entirety.  It is a standout, this little tree, hardly more than a bush, but radiant in its brashness.


Saturday, October 20, 2012.  This image looks so unreal to me, like I pasted the bar code on a silver pole on top of a background.  It looks almost flat and like it doesn't belong in the scene, but this is New York, and there it is and nothing can be done about it.


Saturday, October 13, 2012.  The sun was so bright that the filigree pattern seemed as solid as the actual fence.  The delicate hues of the sandstone - blue, pink, gray - were enhanced by the solidness of this ephemeral image.


Saturday, October 27, 2012.  My own fall color tour through Central Park, along the Reservoir.  I could see them in the distance, the brilliant red, the golden yellow, orange, the soft salmon and the green not willing to go quite yet.  It was just a patch, just a spot, that wanted to focus the attention of anyone passing by, only for a second - just long enough to marvel at the perfect melding of hues.  It will now be gone in the rush of the hurricane, but I beheld it just that once.


Friday, September 28, 2012.  A quiet little harbor at moonrise.  Lights in the distance beckon you to visit, but who could leave a berth so still and calm?  Maybe tomorrow, when the light of day makes travel seem possible, adventurous and necessary.  But tonight, maybe just dinner and a conversation, and remembering among family and friends.


Sunday, September 30, 2012.  Abundant, ripe, golden beneath the rising moon, the river of corn stretches to the horizon and beyond.  It has feed mankind for millennia, and others before then.  It flows down, halting at the bank of green, pausing its rush over the field.  The moon seems so far away, beyond the trees, beyond the rise, beyond my ken, but within the boundaries of my thoughts.


Monday, October 1, 2012.  The goat rises from the herd, pulled upward by the force of nature, its fleece beginning to turn golden as it rotates in the setting sun.  The others are unaware that it is transcending time and space, consumed as they are by their own endeavors.  But, its time has come and it has decided to start on a new journey.