Today is the autumnal equinox, when pagans and scientists are in agreement.
Don't tell either that the world turns just the same, with or without them.
This year on the prairie, the sound of leaves in the breeze already has a brittle edge. Cicadas are intermittent. On overcast days like today, crickets rule.
A decade ago in the northwoods, the autumn season was robust.
Were I born in a different time and had the Toy Canon (or these days just your average phone), I suppose I'd have more snapshots.
But I didn't, so those from the fourteen straight months spent exploring the land I love best are about it.
From here they sure look like good years to me.
My emergency backup ended up a casual pursuit. It was convenient. Near weightless. A simple reflex, not a thought.
Hadn't much considered the results, until now. For sure, I'd never try to get a fine art print from any of these these.
The technical term would be crappy.
But fine art printing's no longer at issue. Lucky me, eh?
Time flies.
And with it flows the life giving light.
People say the light is long or short, warm or cold. Almost always it's somewhere between. Occasionally in near perfect light, it's everything at once.
What's not to love about Superior autumn?
For the last few months, the northlands day has steadily shrunk.
Some take autumn for being warm and rich. Nostalgic, even. And they hold the sublime light in their hearts like living, breathing memory.
Transitional light is all that good stuff, sometimes. When not otherwise in your face chilly and blowing low.
Depends on the day.
The Toy Canon's been gone a long time now. I don't mourn its passing.
On the prairie as in the northwoods, countdown to winter solstice began in June. That just means we're about halfway there, pagans and scientists both.
Happy autumnal equinox.
#equinox
I'm in such a different light, right now, with the Mediterranean sun like a blue-tinged-on-the-edges spotlight. It makes me appreciate that much more, the unique autumn light you are delivering in this series. Thank you. Alex
ReplyDeleteI have to imagine transitional Mediterranean light's a good deal more subtle, but no less telling. For years now, it's the light that tells me what time of year it is, not the calendar or even the weather, both of which are known to lie. Northwoods autumn light's the richest & most nuanced for sure. You're welcome, Alex. Thank-you for the kind words and for stopping by to share them from the other side of the world.
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