the garden

i will live. with trees.

i am of that age
with peer-friends, gratefully
who do not enjoy spending all of our time
talking about all the things that beset us.
you know
the failing bits and pieces.

we keep thinking we are just still ourselves.

And
yet
with all of the recent passings of very young people
and bed-ridden "more mature" folks
my family has begun asking me
"what do you want us to do when...?"

well, you know.

Most of them live away out west
in assorted deserts
which i escaped decades ago.

Me?
Let me always live with trees.
Like these fabulous copper beeches
with their bright as a penny tiny new leaves
(photographed 3 weeks ago)

How much do i love my family?
They understand...and have made promises.

This next one really does warrant taking a few seconds to click on it and
view it larger
if you ask me

Leafing out all over

Early morning light plays in the new leaves at the edge
of  deep green, massive spruces that line the drive
at Greenwood

 

Elsewhere in the garden
the feathery leaves of threadleaf Japanese maples
in the sun
and in shilouette

 

The tulip poplar leaves
glow like lime green sour candies

3 beauties

three of my favorite beautiful things
from recent days

my initial reaction when i first spied
this leaf in the rain was
"Ooh. Pretty. Too bad it's lying on asphalt."
Then i looked at it again.



i love these eggs
and the chickens who lay them



And this one
is so extra-ordinary
it deserves at least 2 views

 

i ♥ the woods

carpets of violas
first the flowers
and now the leaves

a leaf

a phormium at Greenwood

In the rainy woods

The second day at Greenwood it rained.
but there were breaks
and the light changed often.

If these lichen are not called "snowflake lichen", why not?
Oh.
Maybe they are the woodland fairies' rose window lichen?



Later in the day
the rain poured down.
And i marveled even more at the light shining out from the woods.
Even after all those snow storms,
all the wind,
and now the rain
the bleached leaves on the beeches still cling to their branches like
small, pale yellow bunting strung from limb to limb and tree to tree.

When driving down to the barn at the end of the day
i stopped and turned off the windshield wipers
and watched them dance in the rain and took tons of photos
some of which are now in this little slide show:

Winter willow leaves

the last willow leaves shine in the late evening light.

the camera's sensor must be adjusted to its highest settings
and gives a graininess not unlike film would.

Who knew?

i didn't.

i guess i never paid attention, until this autumn.
Boston ivy has a mind of its own. And can be different colors
in different locations.

On the garden fence door:



and one week later:

on the stucco wall:
 




flowing out of the urn:

the woods become filled with light

   
and, for some reason, Typepad is producing a soft version of this...
It looks better here

Heaven becomes a mosaic