Amor

Whether winter, spring, or fall
Cupid lies there, bares his all
Beneath the bush, summer too
Urges all to bill and coo
Fall in love again, anew.

Summer heat or chilly blast
So long as concrete shall last
Cupid lies there in repose
Beneath bush of petite rose
No complaint of frozen nose.



It matters not to this sprite
That Fall comes with chilly night.
But as for me I am blessed
To see the bush brightly dressed
Flowers in bloom.  That's the best!

Indulgences

Rainy morning, driving home from the post office, Jefferson Street, half block east of Main.

The cute little vehicle in front of me sports a vanity plate.  At first glance, I thought it read "Mini Bug."  It doesn't.

I followed Mimi Bug through town.  At the fork she followed the highway,  I continued straight on Jefferson Street.

I have probably mentioned here in the past that I used to purchase vanity plates.  It is sort of like giving free money to the State.  But then, I suspect most of us, Self included, fritter away money on sillier things.

I once bought a 46" flat screen TV.  Account for that.  Frittering money away.

Unending, too, because I pay a monthly fee for a cable feed. I have several rants related to that, but I'll spare you for the moment.

What's Snew?

Oh, yes, there is still green in the grass, and in some of the trees, too. But trust me.  Fall is here.









Yard detritus to be hauled away.

The fountain is "winterized" and mums and gourds take the spotlight.







Cruelest joke of all:  the "s" word has returned to the weather prophet's vocabulary.

The Old Guy and the Old Dame

The old house is still standing

Its days of usefulness are o'er

And though it hasn't fallen

It is more decrepit than it was the year before.

Missing panes and tattered shingles

The building is beginning to crumble

Time-battered and weather worn

I, too, am beginning to stumble.

From time to time I stop to visit

To assess the prospects for tomorrow

Some day she'll fall but I may not see it

Like her, I've little time yet to borrow.

Will the house go first, or will I?

 You may not play our little game

We'll soon revert to dust 

The old Guy and the old Dame.

© 2014 David W. Lacy

Repost and Update

A few years ago I posted these fall pictures in black and white taken back in the day when i burned a lot of Tri-X.  Following these old pictures, I am adding the pictures taken through the rainy atmosphere this day provided.

A long time ago, another time, but in this place, I shot a lot of black and white film. I processed the pictures myself. I never got really good at photography, but occasionally I got lucky and came up with a decent picture. This one has long been a favorite of mine. It serves here as a header to "Indiana Fall in Black and White."

This was the vechicle which I drove back and forth to work. It is already twenty-six years old at the time this picture was taken.

Hangers-on. The leaves don't all fall at once.

Hmmm. If we rake now, we'll have to rake again. Decisions, decisions.

Falling leaves. Serendipity, for one cannot simply "order" the leaves to fall in front of the lens.

My daughter's car in the driveway. If you can identify it you are a true "car geek."

Two gables. Jerkinhead gable; straight gable.

And now the October 2014 update.

Standing in the sunroom, I opened a panel and the screen. It was raining, is still raining.  The orange/russet/red is a purple ash.  The yellow in front is provided by neighbor's tree, also an ash, but a different variety.  The green in the back left is one of the austrees in our windbreak.  Stubborn things are refusing to succumb to fall.  Yet.

 Of course there is some raking and some vine removal in the near future.  If it quits raining, that is.

Snow White and her coterie of weird little friends is scheduled to be housed in their winter quarters.  As soon as it quits raining.

One more from the secret garden behind the barn.  Won't be long now.

Passage through Space and Time

Fall officially started at 10:29 EDT last night, so I am told.  The little orbs in their pathways continue to make their circuits.  The days of our lives have been reduced in number by one, if we count from yesterday.  So much is predictable, and yet we know so little about what the future holds.

Several years ago on the occasion of the beginning of Fall I noted that Stella d'Oro was still providing blossoms, though many flowers have faded.  I wrote this little verse in her honor, and as a reminder to Self that perseverance to the end is a virtue.

Oh, Lily, little Golden Star

May I live my life as you are.

You blossom where you're planted

And yet you are quite unda'nted               

Through wet of flood

And you've now withstood

The long heat and dry of drought.

Your gaudier sisters have had their day.

They no longer bloom, their foliage hay.

And yet you soldier on.

May I keep at it 'til I'm gone.

May of me, as of you, it be stated

He started early and finished late and

Through it all, he kept the faith.

Consider the lilies of the field-- Jesus

Beauty of Autumn

I've not done much by way of fall pictures this year.  Haven't taken many for some reason, and have posted even fewer.  On this particular autumn afternoon I was at the end of our street, some 400 yards north of the house.  There is a ditch at the edge of the road debouching into a nearby creek.  The little woods is not deep, but it is interesting.  The railroad track is just beyond the woods.

I snapped these two shots from the same spot using a slightly different angle for each.  I took only these two because someone coming up behind me seemed to be hoping I would get out of the road.  So I did.  Yet I am rather pleased with these pictures, so I am sharing them with you.

Summit Lake State Park

 Much of this past week was spent with our pals at Summit Lake.

 Little Wiener seems to be adapting well to us.  He even enjoyed the camping experience!

 The shelter and a little kindling is about the extent of the work that gets done!

 We were grateful for the fire-- and the jackets.  The heater in the RV was on during the nights!

The music around the campfire is one of the things that make this all worthwhile!

Then the week, the gloriously, beautiful, sunny (but chilling evenings) week came to an end, and we are safely home once again.

Foggy Morning

All sorts of things have been said, and written, about a foggy morning, little cats' feet and all that.  I'll not add much to it.  But one good thing about such a day is the way in which water droplets are captured in the spidey webs.

 I like this.

Visibility: quarter mile.  It is clearing.

No fog, but the leaves are pretty.

Conversations with Random People: A Testimony Before Men

Absolutely gorgeous autumn morning, sixty-two degrees and sunny.  The bicycle and I moved as a unit as we trundled our way to the post office.  A mere block from the destination, I passed a man going the other way.  He was afoot, a large cross over his left shoulder, the other end, eight feet from his head, was riding along the pavement on two small wheels.

I continued on my mission, collected the mail and returned to and remounted my wheel.  As I headed homeward, I was somewhat surprised that I did not pass the gentleman in the first three or four blocks; then I spotted him ahead, yet another three blocks.  This guy is moving along!  And I thought he was an "old guy."

I came up from behind him, passed him, and stopped the bike.  "Take up your cross daily, and follow Me," I quoted.  Then I said, "I see you take that admonition seriously."  As he rested the crossbar on the ground, he said, "That is the only way to take it."

I applauded his testimony; he gave praise to God for the courage and the strength to carry on his mission.  He told me that the cross had been across Indiana from the Ohio River to Lake Michigan.  Between tours of that nature, he walks in some neighborhood not far from his home on a daily basis.  This was our day.  He said he usually walks three or four miles each day, which is not bad for an old guy, for he was indeed grizzled and grey.

We shared our thoughts on a lost and dying world, unaware and heedless of the message of salvation.  I wished him well, he wished me the same.  "David," I said, as I offered my hand.  He took my hand and said, "Ron."

I write this, thinking of Paul's words, "I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ."

Street Vendors

Atlanta, a village some six miles to the south, is a quaint  place with a number of beginning-of-the-twentieth-century buildings in the business district, but few businesses to occupy them.  But the people valiantly soldier on, making an effort to keep their place attractive.

For the past forty years, the last Saturday and Sunday of September (or thereabouts) have been dedicated in this town to "The Earth Festival."  It is, of course, another small-town Indiana street fair, hosting vendors from miles around.  We have attended, at least one year in the past, when we had to walk through driving snow to get back to where we had parked our car.  This year, though, was perfect, weather-wise, for the sun shone brightly on the festival, the temperature was pleasant, and a good time was clearly being had by lots of people.

BBBH and I rode the scooter to Atlanta, walked the streets, and in her case, the lady talked to some of the vendors, and yes, bought stuff.  But no more stuff than we could carry home on the scooter.

 Like fruit flies to pears on the ground, people seem to be attracted to cheaply-made and over-priced merchandise.  Find Waldo?  No, find BBBH.  She is in this picture.*

Some of downtown Atlanta's old buildings seen here behind the street vendors.

 People are also attracted to over-priced junk food.  There were actually lines at some food stands.

 As I snapped this shot, I thought, "This will be the best picture of the day."  I think it is.  This residence is on the Tipton County side of County Line Road and just two blocks from "downtown."  There is a kid peeking through the curtain of the window, stage right.

Someone  always seems to have a set of old wheels.

*BBBH is just about to disappear behind the utility pole in the center of the picture.

Walk around the Yard

 The view toward the house from beyond the "barn."  There are six austrees in our yard, this one between the house and the barn and five along the property line which is also the city limits.

 The austrees are about fifteen years old, very fast growing, and we greatly appreciate the shade.  However they are rather messy trees, shedding branches in nearly every windstorm.  We expend a lot of effort picking up branches.  The leaves are very similar to willow, and thus a real chore to clean up.  Worse, while the ground is now carpeted with fallen leaves, you can see that the trees are still quite capable of providing shade!

The Bradford pear tree is in the front yard.  As I walked by it I noted that the sunlight, shining as it was,  made the colors very striking.  The reds and yellows provided by leaves, the blues by the sky beyond the tree.

Must enjoy fall while we may!