there is an autumn of luxuriance, of soft colours, deepened by rain and mist -
an autumn which is but a different kind of spring, making me unsure of how time flows (and returns, always, to the same point).
an autumn which is but a different kind of spring, making me unsure of how time flows (and returns, always, to the same point).
and
there is an autumn of austere moods, of slow fading back to the roots
of formlessness (except that there will always be, somewhere, quietly
pulsing at the core of unadornedness, the blood of berries - even in
the snow its pulse will go on, a steady reminder of the same return).
i am both autumns.
i am both autumns.
Hi,
ReplyDeleteThe photos that caught my eye on this post are the 4th, 5th and 6th. Because of the tones, the atmosphere, the graphic, the curves and lines. Superb.
Quite beautiful to contemplate. When I was a child, my father had an apple orchard. and he would teach me about the trees and the way they live. One day he pointed to a tree so much thicker in blossom than all the others. "That one is dying," he told me. It seemed unimaginable to me, that such a tree was dying. That summer, it bore so many apples its branches hung to the ground, and many branches broke under the weight. I helped to gather her apples that fall. They were strewn all about the ground. My father said we should leave some where they lay. Perhaps, they will sprout. That winter I remember wondering about spring.
ReplyDeletema face sa ma gandesc la citatul acela al lui Proust,pe care poate ca l-am mai scris,anume ca"in fiecare anotimp se rataceste o zi dintr-altul"-sau,zic au,poate mai multe.intotdeauna m-am gandit la asta,la omogen,mai ales toamna si primavara dantuiesc in ceva care te face sa nu stii niciodata care e una,ce e cealata(e straniu cat de mult seamana sfarsitul cu inceputul,intotdeauna,cum devin identice intr-un punct pe care o curba il ascunde,atunci cand strabati drumurile).
ReplyDeleteiti multumesc mult,aveam nevoie sa vad ceva foarte frumos-si pentru palcul cu macese,si pentru tot.
hello my beautiful friend Roxana, how I love this beautiful line of verse-"there is an autumn of luxuriance, of soft colours, deepened by rain and mist"-how profoundly philosophical and beautiful, yes beauty lies within the strain of rain mist even through the darkness when Venus shines so brightly.
ReplyDeleteand yes the forms of autumn are deceiving but the beautiful colours are truthful describing the living spirit the "blood of berries".
I too think the winter berries are beautiful but if I think about them for too long they remind me of the drops of blood of christ perhaps over a frozen unreachable landscape.
How I love the final images they are so expansive,they appeal to my sky sign nature that requires the vast empty spaces of the sky for spiritual liberation. and in the final images the white wash touching the earth the erasure of all imperfections and erroneous reaches of the spirit.
ah my beautiful friend thankyou for another masterpeice for this celestial incantation.
you are a powerful writer.
sending you white kisses.
:: thinking ::
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed looking at these photos as well as your accompanying words. Autumn is my favorite time of year, and you've expressed its different sides so well! <3
ReplyDeleteI don't wish to wax poetic about all of this. I look at the highway, and want to be there. Moving. Not living a static life. And I am jealous of the birds. "If dogs run free, then why not me, across the swamps of time?"....something from a Dylan song. Or, "Like a bird on a wire. LIke a drunk in a midnight choir, I have tried, in my own way to be free." I think Dave Van Ronk penned that. If your soul is in the right place, it can be anywhere.
ReplyDeleteThe Castor and Pollux of autumn... both, yes--but which is mortal and which is immortal?
ReplyDeletei find an immense comfort in watching flocks of birds gather in this time of the year, effortlessly take off against gravity. in breathtaking formations cross vast lands and water, drawn by a place they have never seen before (but encoded in their blood).
ReplyDeletei love autumn: the harvest, the colors, the sense of completion, the autumn sun, the promise of spring in conception.
the promise, the promise! i smile . . .
tanya
i have been traveling between these two autumns ...
ReplyDeletethis year, between the richness of the autumn in indiana, where grass is still green and trees in the early morning fog seem blessings slowly precipitating into shape out of vagueness ... and the sparseness of this canadian autumn of gray landscape and rock, where all life contracts to the core of things to endure the cold, as if only the skeletons of those soft shapes are left ...
and for all the years of my life, where these seem to be the only seasons, two autumns
i love all these photos, but what takes my breath are the next-to-last with those wings still visible just at the horizon, and you at the end ...
all that rain - it could be here! maybe about three or four weeks ago tho. most beautiful autumn i can remember
ReplyDeletethank you, my dear friends, to be here with me and for making these autumns of mine your autumns as well...
ReplyDeleteYes, those birds and wires photos are stunning.
ReplyDeletex
oh, that bottom picture, love love love! (the first three could have been taken up the road here :))
ReplyDeleteperhaps less both and instead all, each of these photographs most assuredly your face (all of them), your breath, your being coming into existence and receding. how curious that this is so and yet it is as evident as the table beneath my elbows.
ReplyDeletexo
erin