Postcard: September 9, 2019
Tag Archives: autumn leaves
Celebrating the Autumnal Equinox 2017
Although Northfield, Minnesota’s predictions for the first day of fall are in the low 90s, with a heat index hovering around 100 degrees, cool days are very close, bracketing this anomalous scorcher.
At our house, these are the weeks of retrieving quilting and knitting projects, cutting back the dry foliage, contending with fallen black walnuts, and, yes, raking the leaves. All cherished seasonal pleasures, even the black walnuts.
Hoping you are feeling a new and pleasant balance as the nights shift into high gear while the temperatures begin to sink.
Postcard: October 24, 2016
November Wet Leaves: Photos by Karla Schultz & Leslie Schultz; “Wet Leaves Song” (Poem)
Smokey Mountains National Park (Karla Schultz)
Now that it is November, there are only a few dwindling weeks remaining to enjoy fall foliage. Maybe we only have days–we had our first snow overnight. Winter has its own beauty–I might even take a photo or two!–but I do find myself reluctant to say farewell to the leaves this year. Accordingly, as the rains and snows set in, I am finding beauty in the wet leaves close to the ground. There is a certain glossy and poignant appeal to wet leaves, and I am encouraged to look more closely at the structure of each one.
My sister, Karla, a wonderfully skillful photographer of all things in nature, agreed to let me post some of her pictures of wet leaves this week (and in the months ahead, there will be more of Karla’s photography.) Below, I include a new poem inspired by these November leaves and a couple of photos of my own. May you find a few bright, deciduous treasures to bring inside!
Magnolia Planation, South Carolina (Karla Schultz)
Savannah River National Wildlife Refuge (Karla Schultz)
Savannah River National Wildlife Refuge (Karla Schultz)
Smokey Mountains National Park (Karla Schultz)
Wet Leaves Song
Spring rains, autumn rains—
Leaves and raindrops fall—
Light through windowpanes
Changes. That is all.
First leaves, red and gold,
So tiny and new,
Become green and bold,
Lasting summer through.
And then the bright green
Vanishes, all too soon.
Winds grown chill and keen
Under a frosty moon.
Old leaves, shimmerings—
Orange, gold, and red—
Dance windy skimmerings,
Though clouds press down like lead.
Leaves will fall as rain falls,
But these wet leaves shine.
Their fragile beauty calls
To me, and becomes mine.
Leslie Schultz
Below are a few more photos (these that I took in Northfield this week).
Thank you for reading this! If you think of someone else who might enjoy it, please forward it to them. And, if you are not already a subscriber, I invite you to subscribe to the Wednesday posts I am sending out each week–it’s easy, free, and I won’t share your address!
In Praise of Glorious Autumn Leaves & “Housecat” (Poem for Alpine)
Every year, I am dazzled by the colors of the leaves as they turn and fall. Above are pink and green leaves in the Garden of Quiet Listening, a Japanese garden on the Carleton College campus, just a few blocks from my house. Every year, I want to hang onto these colors, to bring them inside, to keep them in some way past their expiration date. Here are a few attempts:
Many years ago, when it was brought home to me that all mammals don’t perceive color in the same way that humans tend to, I tried to imagine the world from the point of view of my cat, Alpine. Below is her baby picture, taken the first day I met her.
Some of you might remember Alpine. She used to spend lots of time on window ledges (and couches, too).
Alpine Undignified
Alpine has also inspired lines in several poems over the years, including the whole of this poem.
HOUSECAT
Alpine’s down is filling in
Between her summer fur and skin.
Crouched low on a window ledge,
She watches leaves desert the hedge.
She cannot see their orange and red;
Does Alpine mourn the autumn dead?
Not she; she yawns at the setting sun,
As much to say an evening’s done
As to convey an unconcern —
For whether seasons stay or turn.
Leslie Schultz (1982)
Alpine with Patience and Fortitude (New York Library Lions)
Here is Alpine the literary cat, overlooking Gulliver’s Travels, Vanity Fair, and (maybe?) Jane Eyre, colorful volumes held upright by scaled down copies of the famous New York Library Lions, Patience and Fortitude. Regarding color vision, it seems that the jury is still out on which colors cats can see. (If you are curious, here is an interesting link to an NBC News story.) All I know for certain is that I wouldn’t exchange my human color perception for anything, not even feline grace.
Have you seen any polka-dotted leaves this year?
Thank you for reading this! If you think of someone else who might enjoy it, please forward it to them. And, if you are not already a subscriber, I invite you to subscribe to the Wednesday posts I am sending out each week–it’s easy, free, and I won’t share your address!
