These autumn days are particularly beautiful, with the stunning colours in the brilliant sun.
This gallery shows just a few of this week's mornings when meandering to the shore as the sun was rising.
-click on any image for a larger view-
I took several photos while walking in Bellhouse Park a few days ago. But it was this one that I found myself drawn to.
There's something in the image that touches me. Maybe its the way the two trees lean together— the tall slender one, and the one that's broken...
Even now there are signals of spring round about us— even now while its so chilly in the morning, the fog is thick and the ships' whistles are sounding all day as they move cautiously in the severely limited visibility.
Though its only late January, the sun is setting noticeably later, affording us more daylight and signalling to shrubs and bulbs and birds that spring is on its way. We could of course, still have some very cold weather ahead, but the bulbs are bravely pushing up through the ground in the certainty of spring's arrival. The snowdrops and crocuses are even beginning to bloom in sheltered spots.
Much to my delight yesterday, I came across a small cluster of miniature irises glowing in the sunshine— cerulean blue with golden centres— glistening with droplets of moisture from the temporarily vanished fog.
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Such a Novemberish outlook this morning. Misty rain, and dim light. Everything shades of blue and grey with a tinge of green as I look out over the water. The mist hangs on the trees. The quiet blankets the coastline. But for the lapping waves and the occasion call of an eagle or gull — only silence.
This Sunday marks the beginning of a new season (Advent), and I love that the season of expectation, of hanging on a promise, begins in these days of still descending into the darkness. Of quiet. Though the department stores, grocery stores, and gift shops will play their ubiquitous ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ and blended carols, its not quite time to celebrate. First this season. First waiting. In the dimmer light. Even in the dark. With hope.
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The glory of last spring's growth, blazing still, though now in its gift to the earth. The life that burgeoned will provide for the next season's growth, and meanwhile is aflame—glowing with an extravagance that speaks of the very essence of promise—the promise of life ahead, complete with its breaking, its falling, its one time sacrifice.
