Fall Colors: Orange

Late October. The air is cooler. Colors are more muted. A leaf that last week was bright yellow has now turned dark with splotches of orange and brown. Dogwood trees glow like fire as their leaves morph: green to orange to pink. The sunlight is softening. There's a smell of rich decay in the air. Leaves fall and crunch as you walk. Migrant warblers stop for a rest on their way south. Year round resident birds fatten up on seed and bugs and berries. Butterflies and bees seem more intent as they search for the last blooms of the season. Damp woods and dead branches invite fungal spores and detritivores. I turn to the fall colors to reassure me that no matter what else is happening around me, the seasons turn and nature abides. 

Orange is the color of leaves turning, berries ripening.

Tulip Poplar leaf turning from yellow to gold

The orange of Sassafras

Pyracantha Berries are tasty treats for the birds

Orange veins in leathery leaves

Dogwood leaves glowing like fire

Orange is the colors of fungi, bright on the forest floor.

Earth tone rainbow of a Turkey Tail fungus

Mushroom cluster

Frilly orange fungus and green lichen

Coral fungus feeds a Carolina Mantleslug

Orange is late fall flowers and the butterflies hungrily feeding and searching for host plants where they can lay their eggs.

Jewelweed 

Buckeye feeding on Blue Mist Flower

Orange is the rusty sides of bluebirds and warblers who come to our yard for sustenance and respite.

Eastern Bluebird

Bay-breasted Warbler

Fall Colors: Yellow

As I continue in my effort to maintain sanity and calm in these unsettling times, rather than yelling at the radio and newspaper, I am watching the changing fall colors. Today is brought to you by the color Yellow.

Yellow is the color of migrating warblers who stop by our backyard pond to energize for their journey.

Black-throated Green Warbler

Prairie Warbler

Tennessee Warbler

Northern Parula

Yellow is the color of wildflowers blooming in the garden, in the parks, and along the roadside, providing nourishment for pollinators and winter seed food for Goldfinches.

Black-eyed Susan (Rudbeckia sp.)

Camphorweed (Heterotheca subaxillaris)

One lone Coreopsis bloom 

False Dandelion (Pyrrhopappus carolinianus)

Goldenrod (Solidago sp.)

A European Honey Bee visits the tall Swamp Sunflowers (Helianthus angustifolius)

Hungry Eastern Tiger Swallowtail flutters as it gathers nectar from Wingstem (Verbesina alternifolia)

Yellow is the color of Cloudless Sulphur and Sleepy Orange butterflies that migrate south along the Eastern US to Florida and beyond. 

Sleepy Orange butterflies gather around clusters of asters to feed for their journey

Look up in the sky on a fall day, and chances are you'll see a Cloudless Sulphur flying overhead

Yellow is the ripening stalks of grass, glistening golden in the sun.

Golden grass pollen tassels

Foxtail Grass wears a halo of hairy awns

Yellow is the color of fall leaves that shine from the forest floor and dot the woods with light.

Tulip Poplar 

Muscadine Grape leaf 

Poison Ivy leaf 

It's The Small Stuff

Georgia Aster

You may or may not have noticed that I have not posted here for a long time. I have had a bad case of writer's block. I had lots of ideas, but found when it came to putting them down into words, I didn't have the spirit to do it. I have to admit that I've been struggling lately. I'm having a really hard time keeping positive. Between our toxic political situation, and the Covid-19 pandemic, everything feels pretty down and dark. Despite all my best intentions, I keep allowing myself to get sucked into doom spirals. I can't seem to stay away from it all. I know there is a solution for this--turn it off. And I want to do that, but I also believe in being an informed citizen. But it feels like the more I know, the worse I feel. It's a terrible and destructive cycle, and I'm complicit in my own misery. 

Cloudless Sulphur on Scarlet Sage (Salvia coccinea)

I took a trip out to my yard yesterday and brought my macro lens to hunt for butterflies to photograph, since it is peak butterfly season. I haven't used that lens for a long time. While I was outside, I started searching around to see if there were any spiders or mantises hidden in the the jungle of blooms and stems, and I looked at the asters and sunflowers from every angle. Before I knew it, an hour had passed and I realized I felt light and happy and relaxed. Just what the doctor ordered.

Leafcutter Bee Sleeping in a Camphorweed flower

I thought I felt good just because I was outside surrounded by nature, but I can see now that it is also because I gave my brain a break. While I was crawling around looking at the wondrous tiny things, that's all I was thinking about. It was so refreshing. When I'm on my knees looking at a bee sleeping on a flower, my brain is focused on that. I have to control my breathing so I don't wiggle too much and can capture the details in my photo. I can't move or I'll scare off the bee. And while I'm looking at that bee, I can see that its wings are a gorgeous amber color and that there are tiny hairs all over its body. And its eyes are so big! I realized yesterday that as much as I like just taking photos while I'm rambling down a trail, what I really love is the new perspective I get when I look close with the macro lens. Macro photography was my first photo love, and now I remember why. Looking through the lens at the tiny things takes my breath away and as I sink into their beauty, they are my whole world. At least for a while.

Green Anole with its blue green eye shadow

I read this article recently about taking "Awe Walks" and while I hate to admit that I might be getting old enough to fall into that demographic, I totally get the need to focus my mind on something that fills me with awe, and not on all the awful daily cares. So, when the world starts getting to me, I'm going to try pulling out the camera and start focusing on the small stuff. I may be doing that a lot in the next while.

Green Stinkbug Nymph