backyard view

"Summer is over, autumn beckons. How wonderful to have that forced upon me when waking. How wealthy am I, not to be insulated from my world, to be aware of the activity of my neighbors who are different from me." --blog post from Sept. 06, 2005

Since that post I have wanted to share a photo of the view from my backyard. Here it is, and of course it does not do justice to the reality. It was taken during this past weeks' fine weather, when the sky told why in glorious terms it is called, "carolina blue," and the air laid soft upon my skin as I hung the morning's laundry. The light is always particularly golden, as it is so many places in the less populated areas of the south. The place is quite lively all on its own, it has no need of man's intervention to make it a "happening place." This morning, for instance, the particolored leaves are a veritable orchestra of sound as they continue to shower the earth with tickets to the show in gold, copper, and russet. The light glitters pure and shining upon them, ensuring none is slighted, each is picked out with its own special limelight, silhouetted against the shadows of the dark treetrunks. The stubble field, sown in rye, is as green as the course at Augusta, and the cloudless sky is a deep periwinkle blue.

None of which would translate to film, I imagine. I have neither the skill nor the patience of our dear friend Fred. And I am not sure even he could capture the sense of all the movement, which is what makes it so alive. So you will have to be content with words, or come for a visit.