Mt. Lemmon Aspens — Photo-Artistry by kenne
The sun breaks through
the low-hanging clouds
on the golden aspen leaves
dancing to the autumn breeze.
— kenne
Archive for the ‘Fall Colors’ Category
Mt. Lemmon Aspens 4 comments
The sun breaks through
Mt. Lemmon Fall Color 2 comments
Mt. Lemmon Fall Colors — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Drive thirty-five miles
To mixed conifer forest
Above the desert.
— kenne
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Apache Beggarticks Wildflower Leave a comment
Apache Beggarticks Wildflowers On Mt. Lemmon — Image by kenne
As fall comes to Mt. Lemmon
The mixed conifer forest begins
To show its autumn colors as
Mountain wildflowers will remain
Until the winter snows start to fall
And Mt. Lemmon becomes a house
Without beams and walls.
— kenne
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Road To Mt. Lemmon 1 comment
Fall Colors On The Road To Mt. Lemmon — Image by kenne
I know fall is here
You can feel it in the air
Signs are everywhere.
A blue sky above
Framing the colors of fall
Can we stop the clock?
The days are shorter
Our nights are by the fireplace
It’s hot-toddy time!
— kenne
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In A Yellow Wood Leave a comment
Fall In The Canyon — Image by kenne
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth . . .
— from The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost
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Mt. Lemmon Fall Colors 2 comments
Hiking Mid-October on Mt. Lemmon — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Fall colors abound
Creating a tapestry
On the mountain trails.
— kenne
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A November Hike To Hutch’s Pool 2 comments
Fall Colors Along Sabino Creek Hiking to Hutch’s Pool — Panorama by kenne
One of my favorite hikes is to Hutch’s Pool. In the past, the Sabino Canyon Volunteer Naturalists (SCVN)
would guide a fall and spring hike, each hike having a many as 15 hikers.
However, like so many things, not this fall because of the pandemic.
The trail is open, but not for groups.
— kenne
* * * * *
I bear many scars,
but I also carry with me moments
that would not have happened
if I had not dared
to go beyond my limits.
— Paulo Coelho
Crossing Sabino Creek Below Hutch’s Pool — Image by kenne
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Aspen Draw Trail — Fall Colors 1 comment
Aspen Draw Trail On Mt. Lemmon — Image by kenne
Walk the mountain trails
Beauty is all around us
Never to forget.
The words miss the mark
If only they could capture
The moment in time.
So, we keep trying
To share visual moments
And all its beauty.
— kenne
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Cabin In The Woods 1 comment
Cabin In The Woods (Mt. Lemmon) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
I wish I could escape to that cabin in the woods,
Where the trees have a face like no other.
And those trees play songs,
with the breeze sweeping through their branches.
I wish I could hear their songs.
Not just hear, but to actively listen
Because they fill their chords with notes of love.
I want their tunes to brush my ear
and their leaves to gently cover me from above.
The leaves that don’t crunch or wither or die.
The leaves are full of ever-increasing life.
When the fallen leaves have touched my skin
Chills cover my flesh and shoot me with a sensation.
I have been touched by this gracious life.
— from Cabin In The Woods by Little.Bird
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Fall On The Mountain 1 comment
Mt. Lemmon Colors — Photo-Artistry by kenne
The closer you get to nature
the more your personal values
become your reason for living.
— kenne
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Fall Colors — Mt. Lemmon Leave a comment
October Colors on Mt. Lemmon — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Fall
Fall, falling, fallen. That’s the way the season
Changes its tense in the long-haired maples
That dot the road; the veiny hand-shaped leaves
Redden on their branches (in a fiery competition
With the final remaining cardinals) and then
Begin to sidle and float through the air, at last
Settling into colorful layers carpeting the ground.
At twilight the light, too, is layered in the trees
In a season of odd, dusky congruences—a scarlet tanager
And the odor of burning leaves, a golden retriever
Loping down the center of a wide street and the sun
Setting behind smoke-filled trees in the distance,
A gap opening up in the treetops and a bruised cloud
Blamelessly filling the space with purples. Everything
Changes and moves in the split second between summer’s
Sprawling past and winter’s hard revision, one moment
Pulling out of the station according to schedule,
Another moment arriving on the next platform. It
Happens almost like clockwork: the leaves drift away
From their branches and gather slowly at our feet,
Sliding over our ankles, and the season begins moving
Around us even as its colorful weather moves us,
Even as it pulls us into its dusty, twilit pockets.
And every year there is a brief, startling moment
When we pause in the middle of a long walk home and
Suddenly feel something invisible and weightless
Touching our shoulders, sweeping down from the air:
It is the autumn wind pressing against our bodies;
It is the changing light of fall falling on us.
— Edward Hirsch (from his 1986 book of poems, Wild Gratitude)
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Early Aspen Colors On Mt. Lemmon 1 comment
Early Aspen Colors on Mt. Lemmon (October 8, 2020) — Images by kenne
Most trails on Mt. Lemmon remain closed after the Bighorn fire, leaving
many burn-scarred areas. As a result, photographing the fall colors will be limited
to Summerhaven and Ski Valley.
— kenne
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Fall Colors In The Desert Winter Leave a comment
Cottonwoods Creating Fall Colors In The Desert Winter (01/02/20) — Image by kenne
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Saying Goodbye To Fall On Mt. Lemmon Leave a comment
Saying Goodbye to Fall On Mt. Lemmon — Photo-artistry by kenne
We have passed through fall, for now,
Saying goodbye to falling leaves,
Relaced by falling snowflakes,
Blanketing the narrow forest trails.
* * * * *
“The ten hours’ light is abating,
And a late bird wings across,
Where the pines, like waltzers waiting,
Give their black heads a toss.”
— kenne
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The Blast of The Self 1 comment
An Aspen Fall — Photo-Artistry by kenne
In a letter dated 4/26/03, by brother Tom wrote:
“I am in the midst of ‘trying’ to memorize a poem . . .
‘Final Soliloquy of the Interior Paramour’ by Wallace Stevens . . .
never mind why . . .
although the exercise was triggered by a piece by
George Steiner in which he wrote:
‘The danger is that the text or music will lose what physics
calls its ‘critical mass,’ its implosive powers within
the echo chambers of the self.'”
Tom was aware that what is committed to memory
and susceptible to recall constitutes “The Blast of The Self,”
an intensity of outward attention — interest, curiosity,
a healthy obsession was a motivation stronger
even than love or hatred or fear.
— kenne
Final Soliloquy of the Interior Paramour
Light the first light of evening, as in a room
In which we rest and, for small reason, think
The world imagined is the ultimate good.
This is, therefore, the intensest rendezvous.
It is in that thought that we collect ourselves,
Out of all the indifferences, into one thing:
Within a single thing, a single shawl
Wrapped tightly round us, since we are poor, a warmth,
A light, a power, the miraculous influence.
Here, now, we forget each other and ourselves.
We feel the obscurity of an order, a whole,
A knowledge, that which arranged the rendezvous.
Within its vital boundary, in the mind.
We say God and the imagination are one…
How high that highest candle lights the dark.
Out of this same light, out of the central mind,
We make a dwelling in the evening air,
In which being there together is enough.
— Wallace Stevens
Becoming is Superior to Being 