There's an old country saying that "autumn goes floating down-river." The adage is often used metaphorically to reflect on the swift and steady passage from the bright patchwork of colorful leaves to a landscape stark and skeletal. And it regularly proves true—time does seem to speed up once the leaves have taken on their carnival hues. Early-October rushes past and suddenly it's already mid-November, the leaves are down, Thanksgiving is just around the corner…with winter and Christmas soon to follow.
How could this have happened so quickly? In part because the old expression is not only metaphoric truth, but a quite literal description of natural fact—as anyone who lives alongside a river or creek quickly learns.
Every morning, I start my day off with a look upstream and down. Once autumn hits its peak, every first look finds a bit less color, a tad fewer leaves still clinging to the trees, with a more open view through the thickets and canopy of the bankside woodlands. Then, if I look at the surface of the river, I'll see an endless stream of leaves being carried along with the current.
Autumn floating down-river.
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17 comments:
HI GRIZZ-
I love the pictures - you captured the movement of time this brisk November day - I love it and want to float along.
Love to you always
Gail
peace....
Griz
The colours in that first picture are amazing.
Since the middle of the week there has been a strong wind here which has systematically stripped many of the trees of their remaining leaves but it has been very mild.
11th November, the feast of St Martin, is when the first snow should fall here; "Martin arrives on a white horse". It seems unlikely this year.
...Tramp
Dare I say that we are all floating down river? Everything changing. Everything moving. Entropy. The Second Law of Thermodynamics.
There is nothing we can do, of course, except enjoy the float, knowing that that everything — these autumn leaves, these flowing rivers, and these transitory lives — are all part of that great Something from whence we came and to which we will return.
I so miss my lake, Griz. Thanks for sharing your river.
Gail…
Living on a river in autumn, you're always reminded of time's passage—the water flows, leaves fall and are carried away, the landscape changes. Seasons are undeniable. There are days when I'd like nothing more than to set my craft upon the water and ride downstream…
Tramp…
Apparently some around here have seen a few snowflakes over the last day or two—but not me. And today was nippy but sunny, not nearly cold enough. Too, there a bit of a warming trend ahead. A fair amount of leaves are still on the trees, as well.
Seasons are both unpredictable and different each year. I like that.
George…
It also puts an honest perspective on so many of the things we do, the importance we often bestow on this or that. Life isn't trivial…but we sometimes treat it—and live it—as if this were the fact.
Rivers are great healers, wise teachers—and there are times when I honestly don't know where I'd be if I didn't allow them to minister to me.
Jenn…
I can understand that completely. I hope visiting my river can assuage some of that sense of loss.
You, my friend, are the Monet of photography. The luscious photo at the beginning of your post is prize worthy.
I think Wanda received a bit of snow this morning and I have a friend who just returned from Colorado and wherever she was they had quite a bit of snow....brrrrrrr but it is November and I think Autumn should float down the river....lol
After a very warm week we have now turned cold and we are expecting flurries tomorrow.
Have a great Sunday......:-) Hugs
KGMom…
I know I must bore most visitors with my penchant for photographing water…but I love such shots.
BTW, what I think is a better version of this shot, taken a moment later when the light changed slightly, can be seen at Bonnie's blog…
(http://originalartstudio.blogspot.com/
…in conjunction with (TA DAH!) my interview piece.
Bernie…
No snow here…yet. And probably not for at least a few more days. Wanda can have my share for at least another week or two.
But, it's a'comin'.
Go with the Flow!
Your interview at Bonnie's was Exceptional! Your down to earth life and honesty by nature is charming, as is your blog, a most favorite of mine!
Wanda…
I feel the same way about your lovely blog. Don't always comment, but I always read. I know we share the same love for nature, family, food, life. Your heart always shows through in your words and photos.
Thank you, always, for your comments.
Grizz,
Thank you for joining the band of Bonnie's interviewees, of which I too was one.
I have not visited here before but that omission is now at an end. Your photographs are miraculous, but that is not the only reason. I would love to be a blogging friend of yours.
Bonnie has chosen a certain type of person for her interviews, we are all much alike in one respect: readers, writers, thinkers and very happy with solitude.
I learned more about you in the last paragraphs than in the rest of the interview; I think the Grizz who is truly himself, not led by either question or fashion or expectation appeared here more than elsewhere.
I have just read Seamus Heaney's translation of Beowulf and my last post tells of the experience.
I forgot to say: I too am a river dweller who daily walks its banks, always seeing a different image.
Friko…
Thank you for your wonderful comments—and know that you're always welcome here at Riverdaze.
I originally wrote those final paragraphs (for the most part) in an e-mail to Bonnie when I returned the original questions/answers. She suggested I incorporate them into the interview.
The problem with interviews, as it is with the opinion of folks who "know" you, is that we seldom present more than a side or two of ourselves, while most of us are multi-sided, multi-layered, complicated, and contradictory. I'm all those things I mentioned, and about a hundred more—and some are what I'd call interesting or positive traits, while others are doubtless boring and/or negative.
I do think, as you said, that more of the real me—quirks and all—was in that final bit…though there's way more, and way less.
At any rate, you're right about Bonnie's interview subjects being similar in many ways—not particularly in their thinking, but thoughtful, well-read, and sort of lone wolves, though in so many ways, kindred spirits. As a fellow river dweller, you'll fit right in here, I'm sure. We're not always serious, but we're always warm and genuine. Again, welcome…
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