To Autumn, or, Little Girls with Apples

It dawned on me this morning as I opened an envelope from Fran B, one of my Love Notes pals, that we are nearly a month into the season, and I have not done any “odes to autumn” on the blog. Shocker, right?

I assure you, I have been soaking up the goodness of early autumn as much as I can–the milder temperatures, the gentle breezes, the random highlights [bright oranges, yellows, and reds] in the trees. Academic life during COVID-19 is a level of busy I have never, ever experienced, so it’s been a bit of a struggle getting to the blog, especially since I’m typically screen-weary to the point of tears–or madness.

The artwork featured on the card Fran sent is worth my risking my sanity.

“Cider Mill” (1880) by John George Brown. Oil on Canvas. Daniel J. Terra Collection.

Cider Mill by John George Brown (1831-1913) features five little girls feasting on scrumptious apples they’ve just picked outside a cider mill. It speaks volumes about girlhood, apples, and autumn. The art is part of the Daniel J. Terra Collection of the Terra Foundation for the Arts. [Click the links to learn more about the artist and the masterpiece].

This is a delightful piece of art, but it grabbed my heart because the intensity of and seriousness in the eyes of the little girl with the red bow remind me of my baby niece, Lu, whom you’ve seen on the blog before.

Don’t you think she would fit right in?

Oh, and there’s a bonus–the first stanza of John Keats’ “To Autumn” was beautifully imprinted on the back of the card! If you’ve been keeping up, you know that he’s my favorite British Romantic poet:

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
   Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
   With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
   And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
      To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
   With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
      For summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

Oh, there was even more autumn goodness inside the envelope, but you’ll have to wait for that. 😉

Mums the Word!

Maybe our world will grow kinder eventually.
Maybe the desire to make something beautiful
is the piece of God that is inside each of us.

–Mary Oliver, “Franz Marc’s Blue Horses,” Blue Horses, 2014

Today’s blog post is brought to you by the autumn flower–mums!

When we celebrated my aunt’s birthday this past weekend–social distancing measures in place–I knew I had to capture the mums welcoming us to her home. I had plans to play around with them later.

I’d been adding “create something” to my daily to-do list for days, but had not managed to check off that “task,” so I sat down with my computer and iPad to “play” during last night’s non-presidential debate[?].  I was able to revisit the mums and transform them in more ways than I can share in one blog post.

Here are three of the 12 pieces I crafted. [I will share some of the others in separate posts].

Maybe, they’re beautiful. Maybe, they’re not. No matter. The pleasure was in the process of creating, not the outcome.

A Photo a Week | Opposite Weather

I decided to participate in Nancy Merrill’s “Photo a Week” Challenge this year. Even though my camera is a constant companion, I have not done well with yearlong photo challenges. However, I’m inspired by my blogging friend Laurie’s completion of 52 weeks of photos last year, and I’m hoping to change that.

As I was driving last weekend, I noticed we’ve reached the stage of winter in which brown and gray dominate. I miss the brilliance of autumn, so I was pleased to find Nancy’s post coaxing us out of the dull gray and into the color of any of the other seasons with the prompt “opposite weather.”

I eagerly scrolled through my autumn photos and found two pics of oak leaves taken one brisk autumn morning just before Thanksgiving–my last shots of Autumn 2019.

The year’s last, loveliest smile,
Thou com’st to fill with hope the human heart,
And strengthen it to bear the storms awhile,
Till winter’s frowns depart.
John Howard Bryant, from “Indian Summer”
(often misattributed to his brother, Poet William cullen Bryant)

Enjoy, and be sure to tune in tomorrow for #ThursdayTreeLove!

#ThursdayTreeLove | Naked Tree and First Snow

Snow was falling,

so much like stars
filling the dark trees
that one could easily imagine
its reason for being was nothing more

than prettiness.  –Mary Oliver, from “Snowy Night,” What Do We Know

I’m taking a very short break from grading because it’s time for #ThursdayTreeLove, and I can’t resist sharing one of the snow pics I snapped with my iPhone earlier this week. It’s a simple snapshot, but it captures a naked tree and our first snow of the season.

Snow is rare in the Deep South, so many of us get excited whenever it comes our way. In this photo, the snow had just begun to fall and the temperature hadn’t [yet] dropped enough for the snow to stick.

I do not like being cold, so I stood just outside my office building and videotaped the snow for a few seconds. [Video below]. It was so relaxing to take a break and watch the snow fall.

Enjoy!


I am joining Parul Thakur for #ThursdayTreeLove every second and fourth Thursday of the month. If you would like to play along, post a picture of a tree on your blog and link it back to her latest #treelove post.

#ThursdayTreeLove | A Study in Contrast

One of the trees I enjoy watching from season to season is the dogwood that sits in the middle of the tree-filled field in the center of “my part” of campus. Year after year, I gaze out my window and watch the tree transform–from summer to autumn, winter to spring.

The tree is gorgeous in all seasons. It has a predictable beauty that can become commonplace to some, but the shape of the tree and the lonely bench that rests beneath its branches always manage to draw my eye.

Many focus on the dogwood’s beauty in spring. They typically point to the the milky blossoms and the illustration of the Crucifixion of Christ the tree provides. For me, the dogwood is just as arresting in autumn. The red-orange blossoms with a hint of gold create a breathtaking scene.

Although I’m convinced these photographs fail to adequately capture the tree’s stunning beauty, I thought you might appreciate the contrast.

I’ll make a note to photograph the tree during the winter and summer for a more complete study of the changes.

The black and white versions of the photographs underscore the seasonal differences of the tree.

Obviously, we’re going to see changes in nature as the seasons transition. I’m [still] awed by those changes–not only for the visual appeal but for what they teach us about our Creator, about His consistency, constancy, and character.


I’m linking up with with Dawn of The Day After in the Festival of Leaves photo challenge. I’m also a week early for the Parul Thakur’s bi-monthly #ThursdayTreeLove because I have a different post planned for next Thursday. No matter. Every day is tree love in my world.

#ThursdayTreeLove | Mosaic of Seasons

Winter is an etching,
Spring a watercolor,
Summer an oil painting, and
Autumn a mosaic of them all.

–Stanley Horowitz–


About the image: The photo was shot in Nashville, Tennessee at the Nashville Zoo at Grassmere on a perfect autumn day. One day, I’ll have to share the animals I captured. 🙂

I am joining Parul Thakur for #ThursdayTreeLove every second and fourth Thursday of the month. If you would like to play along, post a picture of a tree on your blog and link it back to her latest #treelove post.

I’m also linking up with with Dawn of The Day After in the Festival of Leaves photo challenge.

November.

Today was hard.

This year has been hard.

Though it has its incredible moments, 2019 has challenged me in more ways than I can count, so  when I read the words posted by S. C. Lourie [Butterflies and Pebbles] on Instagram a few moments ago, I felt her words deep. in. my. soul.

November.
It’s gotta be about staying or becoming true to you.
About not whispering when you want to shout.
About not turning when you really want to move forward.
November is the month of now or never.
Of let your voice shake but speak anyway.
And stumble as much as you do
but still go forth in the direction
of your dreams and of your peace,
like you deserve them,
like there is more meaning to your life
than just taking orders and fulfilling tasks.
November is nearing the end of the year.
November is live out what’s in your heart.
That it’s not too late to follow after what you really want.
These days, they matter.
You matter.
Finish this year with a bang,
so next year will begin with fireworks.  —S. C. Lourie, Butterflies and Pebbles

This is the kind of thing I needed to read on this first day of November when after one more “sucker punch,” I’m on the brink of throwing in the towel and “trying again” next year. It would be so much easier to kick back and wait for the year to end, but Lourie’s post reminds me there’s still so much possibility in the remainder of the year. There’s enough time to “take this year back […] and make something meaningful of it.”


Linking up with Dawn of The Day After in the Festival of Leaves photo challenge.

Autumn Dance

Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
–Emily Bronte, “Fall Leaves, Fall”

If you have three minutes to spare, perhaps you will enjoy this video of a leaf dancing and floating in celebration of autumn. I filmed the leaf October 1 while catching some fresh air just before a mid-morning meeting.

The leaf danced in the wind for hours. I was mesmerized by its performance and noted it throughout the day. Though I could not see it, a spiderweb must have aided in its dance. Or was it the magic of autumn?

The leaf is perfect for linking up with Dawn of The Day After in the Festival of Leaves photo challenge. It seems to be holding its very own festival!

#ThursdayTreeLove | An Autumn Walk Through the Woods

Now purple tints are all around;
     The sky is blue and mellow;
And e’en the grasses turn the ground
     From modest green to yellow.
Paul Laurence Dunbar, “Merry Autumn”

 

During my son’s last dental visit, I had enough wait time to notice and appreciate a piece of art I hadn’t seen before. Since  there were no other seats available, I sat in the back and just behind the seating area hung a delightful “walk through the woods” painting. I was so thrilled!

Of course, this isn’t an actual tree, but it shows just how inspired we are by trees and forests, and that makes the artwork appropriate for #ThursdayTreeLove.

The palette is appealing, but the real pleasure comes from taking a closer look. There are many wonderful treasures hidden throughout the painting.

The family is obvious, but one would have to spend more than a moment with the piece to notice the rest:

The birds.

The cautious deer.

The curious bear.

The well-camouflaged bunny.

The added texture of actual leaves.

The shapes and feel of the varicolored trees.

None of the office staff knew much about the creator–only that she is a local artist who perhaps gifted the piece to the dentist.

Based on the clothing and the multi-colored leaves, this appears to be an autumn scene. The painting reminds me of the many walks my guys and I take during the season–sans dog. Temperatures are finally a little cooler. Maybe, we’ll get a long–and much needed–walk in this weekend.


I am joining Parul Thakur for #ThursdayTreeLove every second and fourth Thursday of the month. If you would like to play along, post a picture of a tree on your blog and link it back to her latest #treelove post.