Photo Page 1103

The month of November, 2003.

	The fall foliage was not spectacular generally, but here and there were glorious fall colors. I prowled around the area like an inspector of natural art. This is a little-used path that leads nowhere but a tip of land that pokes into the waters of the same creek that runs also through the park, but it was a pleasant trip to nowhere anyway, my steps rustling in the thick layer of dry leaves.




	Some trees seem to be in a rush to leave their leaves behind as fall deepens, while others are like the dying phoenix that bursts into flame to be born again from the ashes. But it is not death that comes, the flamelike ending of the growing season is followed by a sleeping, the living roots safe below frostline.




	Much of the fall color had passed by already when I went out on my fall inspection tour. In the distance, clearly visible amid the warm somberness of the nearly bare trees, I saw this lone tree flaring brightly in a shaft of sunlight. Sometimes sunshine flows down with great force, like a great waterfall, but instead a powerful fall of photons that can strike like blows upon one's head. Other times a gentle beam graces some earthly thing like a benediction; to the observer it is set apart from its surroundings in a moment of glory.




	It is hard for me to pass the old mill of my town without taking its picture. Every change of light makes a new subject of it.




	Great trees in their fall colors are expressive of the time of year, and so too are the little leaves themselves. More and more I find inspiration in the small as well as the large. There is a quality in smallness that I cannot define, but the word fidelity comes often to mind when I try to think of it. When we think of the sizes of things in the universe, we can be overwhelmed by great numbers. Yet if we compare the sizes of all the things we know to the very smallest things, we find it more comprehensible. Using the concept of ten times larger, from the smallest thing on up, we find there are about 46 steps from smallest to largest. By this measure, each human being contains about a third of the known universe. So, our "little things" are, in a sense, fairly good-sized little worlds.




	Those who become the pilots of airplanes tend to fall in love with flying, and even if their later lives preclude flying, because of any reasons you can think of, they still dream about it. Yet I have never much envied them, nor have I much interest in flying in a plane. Yet I have flown in my dreams, and I have to say I do recommend it. And if I had a dollar for every time I wished I could unfurl my own wings, like the Mallard hen below, and take off into the sky, or just augment a hop up on a wall, I would be pretty well off...




	This wall is quite a bit higher than that of the last image -- its surface is maybe 20 feet up from the creek. Yet it is a common thing to see ducks ascend nearly vertically to light on the wall. The shot was a quick one, in less than perfect light, so the shutter speed was slow, and the image blurred. But I still like the image for its capture of motion, and the warm light of the setting sun gleams along the wings.




	Light itself is the primary subject of photography, and of all the visual arts, regardless of our predilictions. I find myself thinking of the movement in fine art called Impressionism when I look at this image. Stone wall, swirling water, thickened atmosphere, and light sparkling, shimmering, reflecting all that is above and beyond the scene -- what is the subject but the light dancing in that place and time?




	Here a serious looking drake passes an autumn leaf floating away. Of the four elements of the ancients, the duck is master of three: earth, air, and water. Give them more time, and they might just master fire as well.




	Considering ducks, water, atmosphere and reflection, this image has these in plenitude. The sun is shining over the photographer's shoulder, striking the surrounding buildings, trees, walls and reflecting back, as well as streaming down from the sky to surround the drake with rich hues.




	There is a small, irregularly shaped area in the park that has been set aside for flower plantings that change through the months. Birds devote much time to this area, and I suspect the resident insects that devour plants feel fate has not been kind to them, there is always some beak to pluck them from the stem or leaf. People, defying the most ignored regulation in town, that of "Do Not Feed Animals", often toss crumbs among these flowers. This handsome pigeon does what it can to keep the park clean.




	The water reflects the actions of this drake as it surges along, intent on his destination. Given the time of year, not Spring, I'd say there were rumors of food that the drake felt he should investigate.




	Viewers of these photo pages have seen some of the interesting architecture that survives in my town. Coming back from the park, I looked up to see the waxing moon sitting prettily beside this example of an older, more graceful architecture.




	The old courthouse is here in the soft last glow of a setting sun, and the shadows of the trees trace their likenesses on the courthouse walls.




	What color is this wall? Here it appears to be constructed of gold bricks as the low western sunlight strikes the wall at an acute angle. The wall was long ago painted a terre verte color, a greenish earth pigment, but for the moment, that is not what we see...




	While nature is mostly the subject, the works of man, once made and set loose in the world, become of it, and sometimes attract the eye of the camera. I am rather fond of this local train, I hear it moaning along its narrow path sometimes as I lie abed, and I am comforted. Perhaps on some level, I am nostalgic for the missing mastadons and wooly rhinoceros that morning and evening would rumble and trumpet past the dwellings of men.




	I visited a nature preserve in a community a few miles away. A rare small wetlands habitat has been set aside to provide a breeding and living area for a wide variety of living things. Wetlands are very life prolific, and are ecologically valuable. Raised wooden paths snake through the area so the visitor may go anywhere, yet leave the wetlands unharmed.




	This seems a good image for the last one of the page. Celestially speaking, the big news of the month was the viewability of the total eclipse of the moon. Though a lunar eclipse itself is not that uncommon, ideal viewing of it is for any given place on earth. The view may be of a partial, rather than full eclipse, or clouds may obscure it. But we were lucky, the clouds threatened, but did not succeed in robbing us of this scene. Oddly, as we sat enthralled at the heavenly sight in the town diamond, many people passed by with hardly a glance at this ruddy moon as it slide into earth's shadow. The last glancing beam of direct sunlight is fading on the moon's lower right.