This was Nature's birthday present to me a couple of weeks ago: a bluer-than-blue sky and golden-autumn tamaracks all around.
Fire, Walk with Me
With the exception of non-native maples, autumn colors in this part of the Rocky Mountains largely exclude all those striking shades of red. Thus, when I saw this rowan tree—misleadingly coral from far away—I was convinced that it was another imported maple. When I got closer, however, I realized that this mirage was created by its numerous sangria berries that somehow blended with its orange leaves resulting in the appearance of being on fire.
This is what kids call "Nature For-The-Win."
And They Laughed, and They Laughed
The one on the left, especially, had its sole eye peppered over by snow. He (he?) reminded me of demonic, primordial and, at the same time, very Slavic Viy who couldn't lift his eyelids without asking for help.
The Veins
Herein lies the paradox.
Winter is the season when Nature is--if not dead--then asleep. In hibernation. Yet it is precisely this time that reveals the forest to be a single living organism with countless naked branch-veins touching, entwining, growing into each other, and not letting go.
This is my favorite photograph of the week. :)
Entmoot
The other day, I happened to come across an Entmoot. Considering the large numbers of those gathered and the wild gesturing of intertwined ent hands--as seen in this documentary image--it might last into the ski season.
Three Sisters in the Wind
"Do you see that tree? It is dead but it still sways in the wind with the others. I think it would be like that with me. That if I died I would still be part of life in one way or another.”
(Anton Chekhov, The Three Sisters)
Coincidentally, I photographed these trees last year, referring to them as the "three sisters" ever since, but not doing anything with this image until now. Chekhov has never been a favorite author of mine, nor has this particular play, but sometimes you ask Literature, and it responds.