By my highly mathematical calculations
I've come to determine
that most people generally seem
to hold Winter to be their least favorite season
and Summer to be their favorite.

It is my hypothesis
that the love of the in-between months
is where one really makes their stand.

Is it the blustery unfurling
of new green,
or the startling flame
of trees topped in amber that you love?
Is it the quivering of barely contained growth
or the gathering in of light
in the face of darkness descending
that makes you feel like you are coming home?

While I came around quite a lot
to the delights of Springtime this year
(in large part because of this book's influence, I now think),
and I know I will be very glad to see it again
come March & April,
if there is a camp for Autumn,
put me in it.


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Vieux Farka Touré - The Secret


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Though grey and blue,
these are a last few shots
found on a forgotten roll
from a tail-end-of-Summertime trip.

It's fun to uncover these
now that my tastes have changed
along with the season
to gold, and amber, and flame red.


Edit: I've added a print of the last photo to the shop!

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So busy lately--
too busy to write.
I miss this space,
and the contemplative process
of adding to it,
so hopefully
some time will materialize
along with new photos here
soon.

I hope you are all enjoying Autumn!

----

Other Lives - Tamer Animals
(I saw this band
open for Bon Iver
a few weeks ago,
and they stunned me speechless.
I hope you enjoy this song
as much as I do).


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I wanted to share
these photos
from a short trip we took
a few weeks ago
before we moved so far
into Autumn
that the season previous
feels like a dream
or something we just imagined.

Can you guess where we were?
It's one of my favorite homes away from home.


----

I forgot to mention: I participated in Mallory's fantastic Food Week!


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My treasures from this year

My treasures from last year



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I love what Sandra says here.

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Back here, again.
We call it our "backyard beach"
because
(even though
it's a 5 hour drive to get there)
we have visited this place
every year
since I was a baby
and a summer would feel
preposterously incomplete
without our trip there.


While the photos on Folkloric
may not show it,
it has been a stressful few months
and this trip
felt almost medicinal.


.

I took a walk yesterday
with my favorite walking companion
and we reminded each other
and agreed
that the smell of blackberries
just past their peak of fullness,
hanging so heavy on the vine
that they fall to juice in your hand
when you try to pick them
and baking slowly
in a sun that is already setting,
earlier than it was setting just last week
is the most beautiful,
heartbreaking,
and utterly golden smell
of the time that is
Late Summer,
Early Fall.

We walked,
taking deep, gasping breaths,
cherishing this scent
of mourning and thankfulness and memory,
and then we waded through the brambles
and gathered enough of these late berries
to bake one more blackberry cobbler.

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...And our final visit.


----

Laura Veirs - July Flame



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