Silent wet earth beneath dry and papery leaf quilts, woven and stitched by summer, and a new story begins. Fall to me always feels like a time of resting, a pause, a completion, but also a preparation for the next chapter.
|A bit tattered and faded|
at the end of summer, but still thriving.
Many shades of brown beneath my feet crumble as I step; my nose flares with the rich earthy fragrance of decomposition. Flashes of green against the deeply corrugated oak bark: a sturdy vine, thick as my thumb, grips with tiny tendrils to climb the sunlit canopy. Virginia creeper -- this summer it has not been creeping, but steadily pacing itself, suddenly five more feet of leafy vines cover walls and tree trunks.
The slash pine tree has added girth – almost impossibly
so. Surely ki was a slender youngster
not that long ago. Now a stately column,
dressed in large plates of bark in rust and gray and tan. The cones will be dropping soon, hiding
nut-seeds under tight scales, waiting for the time to open and feed the
squirrel families nearby. Right now the
squirrels seem to be feasting on live oak acorns, sea grape and coco plum
|A flash of yellow, and fluttering wings in the birdbath.|
Canson All-media 90 lb. sketchbook
Mechanical pencil and Micron Pigma black artist pen 01
Mission Gold watercolors