Ancient astronomers tried to fit the
cycles of the moon neatly into the yearly cycle of the Earth, but of course
failed because the real universe often maddeningly fails to follow our logical,
precise, mathematical models ( a problem science and philosophy still face head
on, in spite of denials.) Stable
calendar systems had to come up with months or days thrown in periodically to
keep the lunar calendar and annual calendar in alignment. These inserted bits were often considered “between
calendars”.
We would like to believe the seasons
follow fairly strict rules around the equinoxes and solstices. But weather patterns refuse to fall neatly in
line, and this time in September can be confusing. Hot or cold, wet or dry, windy or calm. The vegetation follows the sun, but must take
into account not only the current conditions but everything that occurred during
the growing season and (like us) accidents of fate such as when the seed
happened to land on wet fertile ground.
So we keep things like the barbecue
and boat ready for the summer-like moments, and start to pack up the bathing
suits and get out the sweaters for the chill that is inevitable, and remain in
a happy suspense for a while, like the plants, taking whatever comes
along.
Tue-
There should be a “goldenrod” day,
presumably on autumnal equinox, when the yellow flowers of fall suddenly burst
forth. But of course, depending on how
dry and warm it has been and how much sun each site receives _ not to mention
various genetic variables in each plant _ the bloom occurs anywhere from early
August to early October. This year, it
seems to be around mid-September.
There is almost no surer sign, in the
midst of a late heat wave, that “this too shall pass” and that regardless of
what our body is telling us about today, the cycles of the world are
relentlessly moving on.
Wed-
Colors are sneaking into the green
all the time now. Some are fruits, some
are leaves but they all relieve the inevitable monotony that has gripped the
landscape for the last few months. It’s
really one of the things those of us who live where there are seasons
appreciate. Too often, in these extreme
times, we are directed to look at only a single spectacular moment _ peak
foliage _ as if it occurred overnight.
But there is a wonderful and subtle harmony of changes that glow
gradually into that crescendo, and it is a privilege to attend the entire
symphony and appreciate nature’s entire work.
Thu-
One of the town docks at Coindre,
pilings covered in barnacles, clump of spartina colonizing the shore. All shellfish and plants in some ways cleanse
the water, much cleaner now that runoff from the town is treated before running
into the harbor. We have no intensive agriculture
around here, but the county has passed relatively strong regulations on lawn
fertilizer use which are adhered to pretty well, at least by the
contractors. Still, a lot of dog and
goose waste trickles in during rainstorms.
The exposed low-tide bottom was
covered thickly in oysters a few centuries ago.
The blue barrels on the docks mark an attempt by some environmentalists
to reintroduce them, not so much for an edible industry as to do more heavy duty
filtration work. So far, the results have
not been particularly encouraging.
Fri-
Early burst of color from a doomed
tree sprouting from the concrete overlook at the head of the harbor. Boat owners obviously remain optimistic that
some good weather remains, although in fact for several years a lot of the
vessels stay in the water year around.
Not quite this many, though, because the more prudent have them lifted
and cleaned.
More and more of these spots of
yellow, orange, and red as the days drift on.
Photographs by an amateur like me obviously do not do reality justice,
but really all I am trying to do is get myself _ and maybe you _ to truly see
them and their environment a little better than we normally do by habit.
Some flowers like asters and this
white silverlace vine bloom as fall approaches.
We tend to accept their aesthetic contributions gratefully without
reflecting on how remarkable this really is, considering that everything else
seems to shove flowering into the spring and midsummer. Since we are always alert for metaphors and
similes, we seniors who have not yet changed the world like to believe that we,
also, are going to burst forth late in life.
Well, any stories that get you
through the day and don’t harm anyone are fine.
In the meantime, it’s enough to just inhale the unexpected fragrance and
notice how well they contrast with the brilliant atmospheric blues as the angle
of the sun relentlessly drops further south.
Sun-
Looks very much like summer _ except
for the fruiting grass and the goldenrod.
Of course, if you were standing here (at the slight angle I seem to be,
since I still can’t hold the camera level) you would feel that the breeze is
very cool, and the traffic has picked up into autumn patterns, and the children
are playing their organized soccer and football behind me and it is necessary
to wear long pants today.
From the standpoint of what we see,
pictures examined closely often tell us more than we actually experience
visually at the time. On the other hand,
they are selected from a vast field of vision, and ignore all the massive other
perceptions that flood into us each moment, and hence are total lies. Often, the more art there is in a picture,
the more it ignores the reality of being.
Nevertheless, such things are certainly pretty and amusing and useful in
their own way.
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