Last Autumnal Breaths of Cadmium and Aureolin Yellow with Palm Warbler Only Passing Through

Last breaths of cadmium and aureolin yellow 

falling through another season of autumn . . . 

 as it falls through us . . . only passing through it all . . . 

Rock Maples stand mighty and tall.

Miscanthus yellow blazes sigh with tassels reaching upwards ten feet high. 

Standing nearby, soft rustling songs become more an undertone as lengthy, waving blades . . .  yellow . . .  then fade, and float towards the leafy floor. 

A brighter, fleeting yellow reflecting tones of our November garden and landscape . . . little Palm Warbler . . . only passing through, where I used to believe you stayed and bred your brood. You are headed south now to the southerly edges of the United States or perhaps you prefer the Caribbean after spending summer months in the brisk provinces of Canada.

I last sighted one of your kind in the month of April on his way to points further north. There was such a promise of green back then and plenty of food to keep this sunny songbird content in lingering within our community for a cluster of days.

I can see you are a different bird all together from the Palm Warbler I so delighted in this spring. Wishing you a safe journey to wherever you choose to overwinter and hopefully with vernal vegetation anew, I will be here to see your cheery, cadmium yellow plumes mirroring clumps of merry daffodils.

Tree Swallows do return and remain every spring and summer, raising spirited broods here in the south field within the weathered walls of our rustic nest box . . . now being choked by bittersweet as it takes its last gulps of duller yellow.

Our weepy cherry's yellow canopy now lies in a buttery carpet around its twenty-year old main stem.  

Asparagus gone wild, flames cobalt-yellow before our Metasequoia gone russet about the north field. 

A couple of our crabapple trees, within the small orchard, make shiny, yellow spheres . . . tiny apples tasty to birds, throughout the winter months.

While on the ground, beneath our oldest apple tree, the vermilion stream of fruit has become a favorite rivulet for our resident White-tailed Deer to step into. Soon the flow of apples will run dry and that is, as it should be.

Beware brown eyes . . . it is the hour of hunting season of your clan . . . by man . . . who hopes to eat you, apples and all. And I could say . . . if with integrity and honor this beautiful beast comes to be . . .  venison . . . that too might be . . . as it should be. Still, I will continue to whisper . . . "Stay close and you will be safe." Heed yellow's warning . . . with your usual caution . . . stepping through the land beyond this land.

September Garden Walkabout Blooms of Monarchs

Hurricane winds whip

plump faded blooms piled face down

tossed about the ground

Silently walking 

magical encounters flow

Monarchs flutter by

Through green garden paths

gardener's shadow stirs

clouds of butterflies

Crisp cold front moves in

Lepidoptera south sprung

bright animate joy past

Light flitting through trees

chilling breezes slip between 

sweeping floating leaves 

Blooming Friday Brilliant Sky Painting to Dried Muted Garden Blooms

Sunrises this time of year are very colorful, vibrant  and each day creates a unique sky painting. Clouds absorb the suns violet and lavender brushstrokes and offer rich texture to the composition, while in the last photo of another day, wood stoves join the river in creating a smokey mist rising from the valley. When I look out over the Mount Holyoke Range, I feel very young compared to its 200 million years. The seven mile ridge was formed from lava flowing from the valley floor. Then later its jagged peaks reaching about 1,000 feet were smoothed by glaciers. There is a rich history here that I will share in another post. It is a wonderful lofty feeling walking around the garden looking out towards these wondrous hills. Now the sun is up higher and subdued by clouds... lets take a walk about the garden.

Various Hydrangeas along with grasses and buds of future Magnolia, stellata paint a lovely dried landscape. It is as if all the shrubberies have  taken a deep breath drawing their essence and energy down . . . down into the core of their being. While breathing inward they shrink in outer form, from what was lush and full becomes dried, brittle and lifeless. However when observing closely we see the tiny buds in wait, for the exhaling sigh of life  which will swell them all alive in spring. The bare trunks of trees and shrubs offer sculptural points of interest and call to my pruning clippers for more airy forms. Today is the last Blooming Friday of November. To see other garden blooms from around the world visit Katarina's Roses and Stuff