“A few days ago I walked along the edge of the lake and was treated to the crunch and rustle of leaves with each step I made.  The acoustics of this season are different and all sounds, no matter how hushed, are as crisp as autumn air.” -Eric Sloane

Autumn, perhaps more than any other time of year, awakens our senses. Could it be a final revelry before the silence of a cold, white winter? When we think of Autumn, we typically think first of the riotous colours that cloak the countryside. At no other time of year are we treated to such a vibrant palette: golds and oranges, reds and burgundies, rich ochres and umbers. It’s probably the thing we notice first, and naturally so, given that this glorious colour is the most obvious.

Along with these wonderful sights, however, come other things to tingle our senses — the smell of woodsmoke from a neighbouring chimney, the scent of cold and frost, the pleasantly dusky smell of rain-dampened earth and water-logged leaves. The woods smell very different once the trees shed their leaves; it is as though the trees then release a more pungent odour of needles and bark, moss and lichens.

To the ear, Autumn is like no other season. We more clearly hear the wind as it sighs through naked trees. Flocks of migrating birds can bring a lump to the throat as they honk and chitter their way to warmer climes. And surely there can be no dearer sound in Autumn than the crunch of curled leaves under foot.

How does Autumn stir your senses?

A frosty morning captured on a neighbouring farm a few years ago

Thursday afternoon…

The air smells like snow today — not surprising, according to the latest weather forecast which predicts up to 4″ of the white stuff before it changes to rain.  Do you know that smell?  When the air actually feels heavier as you breathe it — not wet, as it does before and after a rain storm, but heavy with frost and crystals and sharp cold.  It’s a distinctly different smell that I can never put a finger on, one that is best described as feeling like “bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens”, perhaps?  One that conjures up memories of red toboggans and Christmas mornings.  A smell that, if you close your eyes, can whisk you off to childhood for one fleeting moment.  That smell is in the air today.

Curious about such things, I googled “the smell of snow” and came up with a few interesting, scientific tidbits.  On AllExperts.com, this question and answer by meteorological expert, Donald Rosenthal:

Question

I can smell approaching snow on the wind.  Why does crystallized water have a smell?  I grew up in Maryland, spent two years in Colorado, and currently live in Northern California, and in each of these areas, the approaching snow has virtually the same odor . . .  But what causes it?

Answer

You have a good sense of smell!

Some  of the chemicals that can be in snow are:

Nitrogen dioxide, formaldehyde, nitric acid, dimethyl sulphide and sulphate and methanesulphonate. All of these have distinctive odors and the combination is probably what you smell.

Interesting, isn’t it?  But truly, I think “the smell of snow” comes from our memories, like the smell of a new box of Crayons can transport me back to first grade with one inhalation.  Or the way the first wisps of woodsmoke on a frosty evening signal the start of colder weather.  Or how baking bread produces an aroma that incites contentment.

As darkness falls, the air smells like snow — copper kettley, woolen mitteny, red toboggany snow.

_______

Friday morning…

I guess my sniffer wasn’t far off. :-)

It’s a gloomy, rainy day in Windsor town today.

But even gloomy days can provide a beautiful landscape, such as this colourful viburnum with it’s burgundy-rust leaves and bright red berries.

In fact, rainy days can be positively golden.  This spirea hedge provides a ribbon of gold along one side of the property.

On the opposite side of the lot, poplars stand naked in a sea of golden ferns.

Despite recent high winds, this burning bush manages to hang on to some of it’s wonderful colour.

This maple still provides splashes of bright colour along the edge of the driveway and a golden carpet beneath its scraggly branches.

And what could be prettier than these tiny crabapples, bejeweled with raindrops with a tangerine hedge of wild roses as a backdrop.

There’s a bit of wabi-sabi from the balcony today — it’s a gloomy, but golden day.

When the frosty kiss of Autumn in the dark
Makes its mark
On the flowers, and the misty morning grieves
Over fallen leaves;
Then my olden garden, where the golden soil
Through the toil
Of a hundred years is mellow, rich, and deep,
Whispers in its sleep…

- Henry Van Dyke

Goblin Dance

Rain, like streaks of misery,
Trickles down between dead leaves,
Fog and mist and wind deceive…
On All Hallows Eve.

Still-dressed aspens shake and quiver
In the breeze, they quake and shiver,
Gold moon gleams on waveless river…
On All Hallows Eve.

Jack-O-Lanterns, sneering, rounded,
Sit like garish spirits, grounded,
Legless heads to earth are bounded…
On All Hallows Eve.

Ghosts and ghouls all flit about,
Chanting spells and casting doubt,
Curses, incantations shout…
On All Hallows Eve.

When trick-or-treaters’ night is over,
That’s when goblins shed their cover,
Over field and glen they hover…
On All Hallows Eve.

Lookouts in low-hanging branch
Will deem it safe to take the chance
To start their yearly goblin dance…
On All Hallows Eve.

On til midnight, dancing, turning,
Cares of other worlds they’re spurning,
At the strike of twelve returning…
On All Hallows Eve.

Now is the bewitching hour,
Danger lurks ‘neath every bower.
Even goblins shake and cower…
On All Hallows Eve.

Witches fly on well-worn brooms,
Silhouettes in front of moon,
Daybreak will be coming soon…
On All Hallows Eve.

Through their holy night incanting,
Finding moon and stars enchanting,
Curdling laughter, raves and ranting…
On All Hallows Eve.

Soon the moon is disappearing,
Witches, goblins now all fearing
Being found, as dawn is nearing…
On All Hallows Eve.

So from their hours of frolic, fright,
They fade away ‘neath veil of night,
Hidden, safely out of sight,
Until All Hallows Eve.

© 2004 Nancy J. Bond

Wishing Everyone a Spooktacular Halloween!

The first entry for this year’s First Snowfall Project has been posted!  To view, click on the link at the top of my sidebar and scroll past the instructions to the first thumbnail.  To let me know about your own first snowfall, simply click that same link, and leave a comment with a link or URL to your snowy post.  I’ll create a thumbnail and a link for all to share.

Red sky in morning, sailors take warning. If that old adage were true, there would have been a lot of nervous sailors this month.  Below are some samples of the beautiful October dawns I was up early enough to capture.  All were snapped (in my pyjamas) from the balcony.  October skies are the most wonderful of the year, I believe.

October 7th

October 21st

October 22nd

October 24th

On a familiar road I stood
And scanned the trees for gilded wood;
No crimson, orange or scarlet here.
“We’ve missed Fall’s flame”, I thought, I feared.

I’ve come this far, I might as well
Continue on this road.  Can’t tell
Where some unweathered, sheltered stand
Might have been brushed by Frost’s cold hand.

Past alders, pines and spruce I drove,
‘Til round a bend, a poplar grove!
Ablaze with gold, and tangerine
And bright persimmon leaves were seen!

Finally, I’d found one place
Where Autumn showed her finest face.
But, wait — what’s that, in the bushes there?
We startled each other, me and the deer.

Neither of us moved a muscle,
The only sound, the gentle rustle
Of chilled wind shaking poplar leaves.
One…more…shot before I breathe.

Eye met eye, and shutter clicked,
Then back to the forest, the white tail flicked.
The road grew quiet and serene –
And left me to ponder this golden dream.

© 2009 Nancy J. Bond

Please join in and post your photos of the fall colour in your area.  Visit Dave to learn more about the project, and to see some of the gorgeous Autumn finery already entered.

A few days ago, Jodi, bloomingwriter, brought to my attention the Japanese term wabi-sabi. Gardening Gone Wild and Our Little Acre have  featured posts on this term recently. New to me, I did a little research and found several definitions of the term.  These are three I particularly like.

Andrew Juniper claims, “…if an object or expression can bring about, within us, a sense of serene melancholy and a spiritual longing, then that object could be said to be wabi-sabi.”

From Wiki:  “Wabi now connotes rustic simplicity, freshness or quietness, and can be applied to both natural and human-made objects, or understated elegance. It can also refer to quirks and anomalies arising from the process of construction, which add uniqueness and elegance to the object. Sabi is beauty or serenity that comes with age, when the life of the object and its impermanence are evidenced in its patina and wear, or in any visible repairs.

Finally, my favourite: “It (wabi-sabi) nurtures all that is authentic by acknowledging three simple realities: nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect.” – Richard R. Powell

I’ve always believed that there is good and beauty in everything, IF we choose to look for it.  In fact, after sharing the idea from Marcia Bogaert @ MeeAugraphie, I used to host a blog “Only The Good” in which, once a week, I would post an ordinary photo — quite often, one of those shots that you immediately delete for its poor composition, lack of focus, meaningless subject, etc.  Everyone was invited to find something good about the photo and leave their findings in comments.  It was amazing how uplifting those thought provoking posts could be.  Unfortunately, for lack of time and participation, the blog eventually fizzled out and I closed the account.

Here are a few photos I chose from those I’ve posted over the past couple years that I believe illustrate the principles of wabi-sabi.  Click to enlarge, if you like.

Fireweed in a burn barrel

A still beautiful petunia bloom, limp with rain

A thoroughly spent dandelion, it’s intricate web of seeds still beautiful

Dead heads and discarded leaves

Rosehips, encased in crystal after a sleet storm

After Hurricane Kyle, destruction turned to art

The end of goldenrod, still beautiful on a November day

Though I’d never heard the term wabi-sabi before reading these recent posts, it is certainly a concept I try to embrace daily.  How about you?  Will you share the wabi-sabi of your garden?