When the water is still and the sun is bright, a pond or lake can be a mirror.
Here is the world in mid-November, upside down. With ripples.
It was as if we spent all of October in the car. It’s not true, of course. We spent most of October on the ground, somewhere in New England.
Massachusetts to Maine, Maine to Vermont, Vermont to Massachusetts, Uxbridge to Hadley and then once more around. Whoo hoo.
These are pictures we took while driving through various towns in Maine and Vermont. In Putney, we stopped for lunch at a charming local diner.
If I could have taken that diner home with me, I’d have packed it into my car and set it up around the corner in Uxbridge.
Kaity and I went shooting today. We haven’t done that in a long time and it was a pleasure spending time with this young woman who is my granddaughter.
It was not quite as bright and beautiful as it had been earlier in the week … but it was neither raining nor snowing.
At this point in the seasons, a day which isn’t bitterly cold and when precipitation isn’t falling from the sky, is a good day to be out and about.
Monday Garry and I are off again. Me to Amherst to stay with friends, he from there to Amherst to Long Island, then back to pick up the luggage (me). And home.
I’ll try to get some pictures while I’m out in the western part of our lovely commonwealth.
These pictures were taken somewhere in Sutton. A farm, a pond, a few bright leaves.
We met a big (probably) Greylag (domestic, not wild) goose who was taking a break from the farm and failed to read the signs reminding us not to feed the geese. I hoped I was seeing a rare goose, but suspected, when he walked out of the water and stood there looking cute, he was probably domestic.
I have dogs. I know begging when I see it.
I haven’t seen any swans around here at all in months. The local ponds, rivers, waterfalls were all dry, with their muddy bottoms showing.
Kaity tells me she’s seen a lot of swans, but not in the usual places. I assume they went to deeper water. Before the rain started in October, you could walk across Whitin’s Pond.
The ponds are full again. Full of water, full of ducks. I’ve never seen so many ducks. And today, down by Lackey Dam, one swan … and a lot of ducks. The leaves around the pond are dark red to bronze and so, by reflection, is the water.
A fine day for waterfowl.
Not only has this been a particularly beautiful Autumn, but it has lasted longer than any in my memory. It started in September … earlier than normal … and it has not quite left us yet.
On our way back from the mall in Millbury, we left Route 146 via Lackey Dam road and when we got to the pond, Marilyn spotted a flash of white. A swan!
I found a place to pull of the road and we took our cameras and walked the short path to the pond. The leaves were russet and red, the sky bright blue. Reflections were perfect mirrors of the sky with crisp leave floating like boats across the surface.
It was a John Ford afternoon. I could hear the music softly in the distance …
Local Color — Imagine we lived in a world that’s all of a sudden devoid of color, but where you’re given the option to have just one object keep its original hue. Which object (and which color) would that be?
This is the wrong time of year to ask that questions. My world has been saturated with the richest colors of nature’s spectrum and I am unable to make such a choice. Though if I must pick an object — or “class of objects” — it would have to be “trees.” In this part of the world, trees are showtime. The heart and soul of every season.
Winter strips the color effectively enough. We live in a black-and-white world from December through March, only traffic lights blinking in red, yellow, and green. And Christmas decorations — red, green, more red, more green.
I wear bright coats and sweaters to compensate for the paled-out world, the utter silent whiteness of it all. Red is the color that holds its own throughout white days and nights.
So I’ll keep red. And, if you don’t mind, I’ll also hang on to red’s close cousins, the oranges and warm yellows. You can build a whole world with those colors. I know. I’ve been living in that world for weeks.
The lens makes rainbows as direct sun passes through it. We call it chromatic aberration, but it is also refraction.