end of autumn

I love this time of year, with the crisp air and warm light when the sun shines. I suppose I should feel a bit sad at the last of the autumn leaves falling from the trees, but I know that all the bright green of spring is just around the corner.

memory for the long winter

Last year was the first spring I noticed that our maple tree has these tiny little flowers. Funny how looking through the peephole of a camera viewfinder can sometimes inspire one to take a closer view.

flora fireworks

I met some friends today for a little bit of good food, good fun and good conversation. Afterwards, I went on my own to enjoy a cup of tea at the Chinese Classical Garden. They are sharing the last of the Chrysanthemum exhibit. I've never seen such unusual flowers, some of them look like fireworks. So fantastically beautiful. The only ones I've ever been familiar with are the little ones from cheap bouquets or boutonnières for high school dances.

I have spread my dreams under your feet; tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.

I have taken so many photos of hydrangeas. I have an image in my mind, a particular composition, color, depth of field. I want that image so badly I can almost taste it. Haven't made it yet, but have found much beauty in the attempt.

last bright days

We always get a few, right at the end of the year, as the temperature is changing, the leaves are coloring, and the time shift has us staying up just a bit too late, just because we can.

new is old again

I've been listening to gospel music the last few days. Even though I don't hold any personal religious persuasions, there's something about the soaring, emotion-full song and lyric that makes me feel awake, and keen to see and hear and experience absolutely everything.

"Let`s go down to the sound tonight

Tide is low and we can walk on water

Reel me in under that starry light

Just like the fisherman`s daughter

Baby when the bands and the barkers go home

They say that Venus she rises

From out of the foam

She dances on air and laughs at the moon

And watches young lovers in fiery dunes

 So are you willing to wait for the miracle

Willing to wait it through

Are you willing to wait for the miracle

Or don`t you believe they`re true?

There`s an old man sitting by the side of the pier

He`s got his cross and his camera

And his bottle of beer

He just sits all day and all through the night

Praying for a vision or a heavenly light

`Cause he`s willing to wait for the miracle

Willing to wait it through

He`s willing to wait for the miracle

What else is he gonna do?

What else is he gonna do?

Now me I don`t need no heavenly sign

`Cause I got the water and the wine

So baby please let your lovelight shine

`Cause we`re all gonna meet our maker

Sometime

 That`s why I`m willing to wait for the miracles

I`m willing to wait them through

I`m willing to wait for the miracles

But I just can`t wait -- for you

Just can`t wait for you

Let`s go down to the sound tonight

And walk on water

Walk on water

Walk on water"


~Marc Cohn, Walk on Water

texture for top two photos is here

that has made all the difference

Over a year ago, I switched to tea as my primary hot beverage, after many years of worshipping at the coffee altar. I still love my coffee, it just doesn't love me back. To my delight, this switch has opened up a rich world of culture and sensory experiences. The tiny travel set above is one of those joys. It has a lovely celadon glaze that enhances the appearance of the gyokuro, a fine Japanese tea.

Don't threaten me with love, baby. Let's just go walking in the rain.

It has been a long week, a week that started out with lots of free time in the schedule, the promise of a couple of rain-free days, and the anticipation of stunning fall color at the Japanese Garden. Thus far, I have yet to make it there, and it has been raining. This is my favorite shot from last year.

after the tears have washed your eyes

As infrequently as I go to the Rose Garden, this visit was the first time I found the Shakespeare corner. Vines grow on a brick wall above a bench. Inscribed in the wall is "Of all flowres, Methinks a rose is best."

come rain or come shine

I love gadgets and gizmos. I lie awake some nights thinking about photo editing, software, lenses, gear... But sometimes you need to know when to leave it alone.

Late this afternoon, I had the opportunity to steal away from the office and head to Washington Park. It was my intention to see the fall colors at the Portland Japanese Garden, but by the time I caught a bus down the hill, the garden had closed for the evening. (No admittance after 4pm weekdays!)

Instead I strolled through the rose garden, something I rarely do because, sadly, like some sort of tomboy badge of honor, I have convinced myself that I am not a "rose kind of girl."

Oh, how wrong I was.

Both of these shots are straight out of the camera. (Okay, I sharpened just a wee bit, but thats ALL, promise.) The colors were incredible, the roses are no longer perfect, they are windblown, with rain damage and frostburn, but they're vibrant and fragrant and beautiful.

I think maybe I'm a "rose girl" after all.

swirl

Wishing I had a bit of this right now.