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
Fall In The Canyon — Image by kenne
Hiking Mid-October on Mt. Lemmon — Photo-Artistry by kenne
— kenne
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
— Paulo Coelho
Crossing Sabino Creek Below Hutch’s Pool — Image by kenne
Aspen Draw Trail On Mt. Lemmon — Image by kenne
Cabin In The Woods (Mt. Lemmon) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
— from Cabin In The Woods by Little.Bird
Mt. Lemmon Colors — Photo-Artistry by kenne
— kenne
October Colors on Mt. Lemmon — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Fall
— Edward Hirsch (from his 1986 book of poems, Wild Gratitude)
Early Aspen Colors on Mt. Lemmon (October 8, 2020) — Images by kenne
— kenne
Cottonwoods Creating Fall Colors In The Desert Winter (01/02/20) — Image by kenne
Saying Goodbye to Fall On Mt. Lemmon — Photo-artistry by kenne
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
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.
Mt. Lemmon Fall Colors, A Gift From The Mountain Gods
— Photo-Artistry by kenne
Autumn Song
Now the leaves are falling fast,
Nurse’s flowers will not last;
Nurses to the graves are gone,
And the prams go rolling on.
Whispering neighbours, left and right,
Pluck us from the real delight;
And the active hands must freeze
Lonely on the separate knees.
Dead in hundreds at the back
Follow wooden in our track,
Arms raised stiffly to reprove
In false attitudes of love.
Starving through the leafless wood
Trolls run scolding for their food;
And the nightingale is dumb,
And the angel will not come.
Cold, impossible, ahead
Lifts the mountain’s lovely head
Whose white waterfall could bless
Travellers in their last distress.
Another Take On A Old Image — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Nature is not evil. The world occasionally shrugs its shoulders,
and people get knocked off.
The earth, for geological reasons that are well known,
is a fairly risky place to live. To be evil, you have to have intent.
Any remarkable natural happening in which no human will is employed
cannot be regarded as evil.
— Simon Winchester
The SCVN Friday Nature Hike was Aspen Trail, Marshall Gulch Trail loop,
which would provide an opportunity to see the beautiful fall colors on Mt. Lemmon.
The Aspen Trail has a grove of aspens, which I blogged in a previous posting.
After hiking through the aspen grove, I began to get out in front of the nature hikers.
With less fall color on the remaining part of the Aspen Trail I decided to pick-up my pace.
I knew from past experience there would be plenty of fall color on the Marshall Gulch Trail.
I was aware that my buddies, Jim Thompson and Tom Markey, were hiking the trail;
hence, I might be able to catch up with them.
I first began hiking with Jim and Tom nine years ago. They were part of the Monday Morning Milers (MMM),
the first hiking group with which I started hiking.
Most of the MMM were lifetime hikers in southeast Arizona, many of whom were in their 80’s.
Jim recently celebrated his 90th birthday.
While Tom is a youngster like me, he’s 79.
Images by kenne
It seems, as one becomes older,
That the past has another pattern,
And ceases to be a mere sequence —
Or even development: the latter a partial fallacy
Encouraged by superficial notions of evolution,
Which becomes, in the popular mind,
A means of disowning the past.
The moments of happiness — not the sense of well-being,
Fruition, fulfillment, security or affection,
Or even a very good dinner, but the sudden illumination —
We had the experience but missed the meaning,
And approach to the meaning restores the experience
In a different form, beyond any meaning
We can assign to happiness.
— from “Four Quartets” by T. S. Eliot
Becoming is Superior to Being 