Fading Glory

The Burning Bush is still aflame 

Against the ash-gray  trees.

An oak flings its gold against the sky. . .

A young beech clings to yellow leaves . . .

But across the river, on wooded slopes,

The colors fade and die.

In elegant French, thanks to Miss Yves

Gloire pâlissante

Le Buisson ardent est encore en feu
Contre les arbres gris -cendré

Un chêne jette son or aux cieux
Un jeune hêtre s'accroche aux feuilles

Mais de l'autre côté de la rivière sur les pentes boisées
Les couleurs se fanent et meurent

A Glory of Leaves

 

Like snowflakes . . . each one unique.

 

 

Autumn Reds and Golds

Down the branch, a neighbor's sourwood tree is in full glory. Pale sourwood honey is thought by many to be the best honey of all

A sunny day-- golds dazzle the eye as light breezes make the trees shimmer and sparkle.

Just like in San Francisco, I'm always looking up. The buildings are a little different though ...

  For red and gold, just look at this confused forsythia --  bright yellow spring blossoms and deep red autumn leaves!

Catch the sun behind the leaves and you have Nature's stained glass.

ry

The slide show pictures were taken yesterday in Asheville at the Botanical Gardens and at the Beaver Lake Bird Sanctuary. Click on pictures to biggify.

 

Misty Autumn

Yesterday dawned damp and misty -- a change from the bright days we'd been having. But moisture is always welcome, especially in the fall when the danger of forest fires is greatest.

The autumn color is more subdued in the mist -- but still quite lovely.

Days like this set me to thinking of The Hobbit for some reason --  of tramps through misty woods with the heavenly smell of the damp earth and the fallen leaves underfoot, and a return to a cozy fire and a mug of tea with the aroma of frying bacon and mushrooms in the air.

I do like weather -- most kinds of it.

 The cows are enjoying it too.

 

The Party's Almost Over . . .

Along the wind-swept ridges, the trees have shed their fall finery to settle into winter garb . . . drab browns and grays . . . no-nonsense evergreens . . . fashion sparse and spare.

But in some sheltered coves, the revels continue undaunted, though diminished . . .
a maple flaunts its autumn coral . . . a golden sycamore dances with the clear blue sky . . .

. . . a leafless branch wears crimson jewels. . . the belle of the November ball . . .

. . . while the Kousa dogwood slowly sheds her lovely hues . . . . and the autumn wind whistles "Good Night, Ladies" through the bare-twigged trees.

Autumn Kaleidoscope

I'm dizzy with autumn color!