Photo 175,000 — Maple Samaras
Cathy and I went for a walk in the neighborhood after work this evening. I had hoped to have a photo of a pile of rocks dressed up as a nurse. There is a house a few blocks from us with a stack of rocks, between 4½ and 5 feet tall. Occasionally they “dress” them in something for the occasion, such as with a Santa suit at Christmas. Yesterday, Cathy saw them in a nurses outfit, presumably in honor of health care workers during the covidian interval. Unfortunately, they were back to their bare selves this evening. So, instead, I give you photo number 175,000 from my camera, some maple samaaras, or winged seed capsules on a tree down the street from us.
Technically, this is only photo number 174,983 because the photos are numbered from 1 through 9,999 and then it starts over at 1, meaning there is no photo numbered 10,000, 20,000, etc., so the 175,000th photo will have been taken tomorrow (but I probably won’t post that one).
This red maple in our back yard is turning its spectacular scarlet. It was a wet and cool day and I just went outside to take a few pictures from the back steps. This one is a bit dark but it was a dark, dreary day. The red is certainly nice and the color on this tree is considerably better than some. This hasn’t been the most spectacular fall in terms of color. The bulk of the woods are yellow or a slightly orange or reddish brown but that’s normal. There are, of course, some trees that really stand out with brilliant color but it feels like there are fewer this year than normal. But that’s not a scientific measurement, just a gut feeling.
Red Maple Leaves
The red maple (Acer rubrum) in our back yard is in full fall color mode. Like the wonderful flowers of spring, the glorious colors of autumn are more beautiful for their evanescence. Here today and tomorrow only a memory, they are precious to us. I look forward to autumn and it’s brilliance, which varies from year to year much more than do the blossoms of spring. The colors are intense and they full the woods, much more than the spring blooms. Withing a few days, the leaves will all be gone, onto the ground, brown and brittle, mulch for the lawn. But for a few short days, they sing the glory of creation.