time of the season
The sky was gray, almost white. Dismal and perfect at the same time. The air was cool and chilly, and the birds were noisy, busy doing whatever birds do in the afternoon. Fluttering around in the bushes now, not high in the trees like they were in the summer.
Every bit of my surroundings shouted (very quietly) ‘late November’.
The greens were subdued. Weathered by a summer’s worth of sun. Pockets of real color … gold … orange … rust … red … clustered in the branches above and gathered along the walkway. But the gentle yellows called quietly. Ahh … the soft, subtle yellows, practically sighed.
The air was still saturated from last night’s rain, and the morning sun was shining bright.
A few inches away, a few feet away, and beyond.
I was glad I decided to head out early that muggy morning.
when rain has hung the leaves with tears
When rain has
hung the leaves with tears,
I want you near
to kill my fears,
to help me to leave all my blues behind.
in your heart is where
I want to be
and long to be.
Ah, but I may as well try and catch the wind
~ Catch the Wind, Donovan ~
photographed june 20, 2020