Archive for the ‘Fall’ Tag
A Fall Scene On Mt. Lemmon — Image by kenne
Leaves, wet and breathing,
circle the small green mind of moss.
From the cliff’s lip,
a drop gathers,
falls—
not a fall at all,
but gravity’s remembering.
— kenne
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Signs of Autumn On Mt. Lemmon — Image by kenne
Where are the songs of spring? Ay, Where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
— from To Autumn by John Keats
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Fall On Mt. Lemmon — Painting by kenne
It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.
— Mark Twain
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Fall Near The Arizona/Mexico Border– Image by kenne
Fall near the border
Where have-nots are fenced out
What would Kino* say?
— kenne
*Father Eusebio Francisco Kino
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Fall In The Sonoran Desert — Image by kenne
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Fall In The Santa Catalina Mountains — Image by kenne
“Live each season as it passes;
breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit,
and resign yourself to the influences of each.”
— Henry David Thoreau
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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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“Still Adding Color To The Trail” — Images by kenne
ARIZONA WILDFLOWERS
Hanging
on for tomorrow,
Arizona wildflowers.
— kenne
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Water Above Sabino Dam — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Yesterday was cloudy to high-clouds day in Sabino Canyon. I was down around the creek and dam area taking fall and wildflower photos. One of the photos was a reflection on the water above the dam. Once the image was on my computer, I flipped it and began to use layers and brushes to create this surreal painting.
A watchful eye
may have you feel
disoriented,
hallucinatory, or
in a dream —
yes, it’s a
irrational reality.
— kenne
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Two-Tailed Swallowtail Butterflies (Taken early this week before leaving for Thanksgiving in southern California.)– Photo-Artistry by kenne
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Early Morning Light on Mt. Lemmon — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Beneath a yellow fading tree,
As red suns light thee, Autumn-morn,
In wildest rapture let me see
The sweets that most thy charms adorn.
O while my eye the landscape views,
What countless beauties are display’d;
What varied tints of nameless hues, —
Shades endless melting into shade.
— from “Autumn” by John Clare
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Bee On Camphorweed — A Taste of Fall Photo-Artistry by kenne
“The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved —
loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves.”
― Victor Hugo
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Columbine Changing Colors — Image by kenne
Yellow, sometimes white
Columbine on the mountain
Late fall, all alone.
— kenne
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Sun Through the Trees Near Sabino Creek — Image by kenne
This is autumn by the creek
almost anything can happen.
This is where you will find
the first morning light,
little fish in small stagnant pools —
Do they sense time is running out?
— kenne
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End of November — Image by kenne
End of November
The canyon has bedded down
Moon rises along.
— kenne
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