No deep thougths today. I’ve been struck by the various shades of autumn red this year. I’ve noticed reds everywhere in my photos from my walks this season.
fenced in chinese paper lantern
spirea aflame
colorful leaf litter
hydrangea dried on the stem
Temperatures have fallen pretty consistently into the 40’s (≈ 4 c) during the daytime to the low 30’s (≈ 0 c) during the night. Most of the trees have dropped their leaves now. Even the grass has started to give up and is turning brown and going to sleep for the winter.
The little flowers in my front garden are still hanging on. The leaves are falling into it, but my flowers don’t seem to care. They’re still blooming like it’s springtime.
And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily. - Colossians 3:23
The snapdragons look particularly showy in their stunning clear pink. They look a bit overdressed for the season, but can you fault them? They’re just blooming with all their might. What’s wrong with a little enthusiasm along the way?
bloom and keep blooming
It’s like my little flower garden said not just “bloom where you’re planted,” but “bloom and keep blooming despite every adversity.” If I could muster even a quarter of the faith and perseverance of the little flowers in my front garden, I’d consider myself blessed. If I could muster that much faith and perseverance, I might even be someone else’s blessing.
As it stands, I’m not sure that I have that kind of energy. I still have big dreams of what I’d like to be and do, but I feel like I can’t get any momentum to keep going. The best I can do I can snap a photograph or two, and share what inspires me. Maybe that’s enough.
I know this little shock of color will fade away in very short order. It will be overcome by winter’s chill because that’s the order of the world. It’s a joy to see it amid the fading fading reds and golds. Maybe that’s enough, too.
Here in the USA we call it Veterans Day. Around the world, it’s celebrated as Remembrance Day. It’s one of the most important secular holidays we celebrate. It’s the day we remember the members of the armed forces, for the sacrifices they have made in support of freedom. It was started after the First World War as “a day to be dedicated to the cause of world peace,” and expanded in 1954 to honor all veterans.
for remembrance
I remember going to Veterans day parades. Everything shut down so we could go to the ceremonies that honor the living people who are still haunted by the sounds of gunshots and the screams of the dying, as well as the memory of those who gave their lives. We had a day with our fathers (and now days our mothers, too), and hear the stories of the sacrifices that bought the relative peace we’re blessed to live in these days.
Wiki lists the observances as “parades and school history projects.” There’s no legal requirement for it, but everything used to close in honor of the veterans who fought for us. Now the only thing that veterans day means is no mail delivery and perhaps a sale aimed at early holiday shoppers. That’s no fitting observance or celebration for a “dedicated to the cause of world peace” and celebrating the sacrifices of people around the world who have fought, and in some cases, are still fighting for that cause.
Now, more than ever, we should remember what war costs. We should honor these living tributes to the sacrifice of others. We should honor them as people who gave so much, who carry with them the living memory of the collective sacrifice of all who answer the call to duty, in the hope that what they were fighting for was really an end to war.
I know American Robins are migratory birds. Imagine my suprise when I spotted this little guy on my walk yesterday. He was all fluffed out and looked like he could be cold, but he sat on his branch stoic in the wind. He was more concerned about me and my little point and shoot and kept trying to hop out of my viewfinder.
a robin in november
I wondered if he might be lost or hurt. It’s darned chilly out. Most birds that aren’t wintering here have left by now. I found out from this educational website that robins don’t always leave the north when winter comes. If there’s a food source available, like the berries in this tree, male robins (and occasionally female robins) will winter in their breeding territories. The website suggests that larger robin populations and milder winters may be driving this.
plenty of berries
While he was fluffed out all the way, this little robin looked like he’d hit the berry jackpot. I don’t know what kind of berries these are, but the tree looks the same as the one in this photo, so I’m pretty sure they’re edible. Another nearby tree was dripping in as many yellow berries as this one has red ones. The yellow berries didn’t photograph as nicely as these red berries did.
Apparently robins don’t eat birdseed. (Again, who knew?) If you want to feed robins over the winter, the site suggests putting out mealworms in a spot where you’d like to feed the robins, and adding frozen fruit once the robins know they can find food at that spot. People who keep reptiles as pets, so mealworms can be gotten at petstores, assuming the mealworm shortage (Yes, there was a shortage of mealworms.) has abated. Otherwise, crickets might be an easier to obtain substitute.
I may have to do that. I’ve been wanting to put a couple of feeders in the yard. I enjoy watching birds in winter. Having a robin come around the house in winter to remind me that spring is never too far away would certainly be a treat.
They had an article about “Nature Therapy” on Planet Green this morning. Basically, the idea is that reconnecting with the outdoors is theraputic (as well as useful for understanding why we should all “be green”). According to the article, people who are selling green therapy believe that reconnecting with nature “restore(s) balance, harmony, inspiration, and imagination by attuning to the energies and seasons of nature.”
the path less taken?
I just wonder what kind of world we live in that we need to be told these things. Is there really someone who out there doesn’t know that a walk outside, whether in a greenspace with gardens, down a nature trail, or out in the country, is both mentally and physically refreshing? Have we in the USA lost touch to the degree that we don’t know this anymore?
have we all forgotten to stop and smell the wildflowers?
One of my co-workers comes from Florida. She came here for her career and complains that there’s nothing to do here. I suppose it depends on what you mean by nothing. We have several quaint history museums and a small museum of art. If you want live theatre, the University of Iowa is an easy 45 minutes from door to door drive south, and the University boasts several lovely little museums on campus, too. There’s plenty of trails, hiking, biking, camping, fishing, boating, and other nature based do-it-yourself entertainment.
There are five major cities within no more than five hours from here (Chicago, Kansas City, Minniapolis/St. Paul, Omaha, and St. Louis) if you want the “big shopping” and “big entertainment” experience. Sure, you have to drive, but what we sacrifice in big entertainment, we gain in lower crime rates and a lower cost of living. I lived in Omaha for a time and had that all available to me. I don’t miss it being here.
I’m very fond of this co-worker. She’s very sweet and well-intentioned, but she’s also intense, abrupt, abrasive, and seems on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I see so many young people like that coming in to the area for work. Bright, vibrant, intellegent young people who only see the fast path of instant entertainment and instant gratification. They live to work, not the other way around.
a brook can't choose its flow. people can.
I have to wonder if maybe she’s one of the people that the article was meant to inform. Slow down. Reconnect with the rhythm of the world around you. Get out into nature, whether sun and heat, or wind and snow, and choose your own flow, instead of letting the manufactured world choose your flow for you.
And if I see you while I’m out walking today, I’ll wave.
I love the look of knitted lace. Okay, I love the look of any kind of lace. Crocheted lace. Bobbin lace. Knitted lace or lace knitting (for those who make the distinction).
I also have an addiction to laceweight yarn, especially anything that looks like it was spun from the breath of angels. I’ve got a tonne, or at least more than my fair share of laceweight. I treat it like some people treat sock yarn: it doesn’t count in the stash. I love it. I pet it. I make lace knitting plans with it.
And then I chicken out, because I’m afraid to hurt the pretty yarn. Plus, I’m not terribly confident working with laceweight. So what’s a girl has to do what a girl has to do. I pulled out the crochet hooks, found something far larger than recommended for lace weight, and went to work.
when in doubt, go back to the basics
I like to crochet, but I sometimes shy away from crocheted garments because the fabric is thicker and can be abominably stiff. By using a larger hook than recommended, I still maintain the drape and flow of knitted fabric. More importantly, I’m very confident with crochet, so it’s no big challenge to knit with tiny yarn. I’m not always as confident with my knitting needles, since I’ve only been knitting a little more than a year.
With crochet, I can just pick it up and work. No pattern? No problem! I can make it up as I go. In this case, I’m using a very traditional shell ground, similar to the skirt on a doll dress Maman made for me when I was a little girl. It’s very mindless, allowing me to focus on yarn handling technique for laceweight without having to think about minding my needles, too.
like dappled leaves in early autumn
I love this yarn. It’s been calling to me for a long time, but I haven’t been happy with anything I’ve done with it, until now. It’s one of the first skeins of laceweight I ever purchased. I picked it up from Enchanted Knoll Farm’s etsy store. The colorway is called Wood Elves and the description was what suckered me in. “Inspired by autumn in Maine.” I don’t know about autumn in Maine, but the colors reminded me of early autumn here.
like my scarf, non?
How could I possibly resist? Autumn is one of my favorite times of the year. (In order: Autumn, Spring, Winter, and Summer.) I love it when the leaves change colors, like the trees are bearing their souls. I love the brisk weather, to put on a sweater and not be too cold or too warm. Having a lightweight scarf that I can wear year round means I can bring those days with me, even when they’re far out of mind.
The exercise of crocheting in laceweight has been good. I feel confident that I can pick up my next skein and knit away without worrying about yarn handling. Well, at least once I get this scarf off the hook, which will never happen unless I answer the tea and yarn calling to me.
Today: Cloudy with rain and snow showers. Temps nearly steady in the mid to upper 30s. Winds WSW at 10 to 20 mph. Chance of precip 60%.
Tomorrow: Cloudy with rain and snow. High 39F. Winds WNW at 15 to 25 mph. Chance of precip 40%.
a single fresh leaf
The last leaves are falling. Whatever leaves are left on the trees will very likely be down within the next few days. The local forecasters have predicted up to an inch of precipitation, and sleet and snow downs leaves faster than wind.
yellow leaves floating away
It may seem strange, but I’m ready for it. I’m ready for pale blue skies and a monochromatic landscape. I’m ready for blowing snow, shoveling sidewalks, and wildflowers sleeping in icy droplets.
Winter renues the countryside. Snowy blankets tuck in the landscape. The prairie sleeps. Fallen leaves quietly decay unseen, putting their nutrients back into the ground, making it fertile once more, preparing it for the coming spring.
I feel stuck in a winter of my own. I feel like my creativity and my energy are sleeping. Maybe the change of season will be just the thing to renew me, too.
I slept with the windows open last night. November 5, and it was still warm enough to sleep with the windows open. They stayed open until the rain started coming in.
lace and shadow
November’s been unseasonably warm. It’s even been too warm to wear the lace scarf I crocheted for the late days of fall, when a chill is in the air, before the biting winter winds come. How can it be too warm to wear lace? How can it be too warm in November to wear a crocheted lace scarf?
While the election looks like a landslide from an electoral perspective, the popular vote broke down to 52% of voters choosing (now President-elect) Obama and 46% choosing Senator McCain, with the remaining two percent split between Ralph Nader and all the other independant candidates. That’s not the overwhelming majority that reporters would like to present. The same people who voted Obama as the next president also appear to be passing Proposition 8 in California. I’m still processing how I feel about both issues, which represent the insane dichotomy of public opinion (black okay. gays bad) and just how close the divide is between the two sides.
I’ve said from the moment when both candidates were finally picked that no matter who won, either candidate would bring four years of political turmoil, but for different reasons. McCain would have brough international charges of fascism. Obama has me wondering “Can the American Presidency be bought?” and “When will the white supremecists come out of the woodwork and try something idiotic?” I’m not sure how I feel about those things, either.
Instead, while I sort those things out, I present the best picture I’ve ever taken of Boo.
Boo at her most beautiful
It’s very difficult to get a really good picture of a black cat. For starters, cats aren’t generally the most willing of subjects as far as posing go. I mean really, I have cats who come to their names when called, but teaching a cat to sit and stay is an exercise in frustration. A cat’s going to do what the cat wants to do and you just have to take a boat tonne of pictures and hope for the best.
With a black cat, the added difficulty comes from the depth of their color. Capturing inky saturated hues without washing them out, or completely losing all detail in their depths is more luck than either art or science. If you take two pictures of a cat of any other color to get one good one, you need six of a black cat to hope to get anything useable.
With Boo, who is particularly aloof, I count on taking at least ten pictures and maybe getting one that’s acceptable. Not good, mind you. Just acceptable. Given those parameters, this picture is a miracle.
I caught Boo just waking up from a nap. I snapped as many pictures from as many different angles as I could without disturbing her. For this particular picture, I was laying on the ground next to her and she stretched out toward me in one of her rare affectionate moments. It really captures her grace and the inky depth of her fur.
Unlike this one.
This picture is the same cat. Really.
See how her color is washed out. Plus, not her usual graceful self. It looks like the kind of picture a popular girl might be mortified to find posted on the internet after she over-indulged at a spring break beer blast. It’s the kind of picture I usually get of Boo and it always reminds me that my Camera-fu is weak, lest I become overconfident.
Well, not in the sense of promoting any particular candidate.
It’s U.S. Election day. Get out and vote, if you haven’t voted already.
FactCheck.org has put out their 2008 Fact Check awards, summarizing things they found amusing or shocking about this year’s election. Chuck Norris got best actor for his early Huckabee support ads.
Also, today is Walter Cronkite’s birthday. Happy 92nd Birthday, Mr. Cronkite. The news hasn’t been the same since you left CBS.