leaf raking

“It is pleasant to walk over the beds
of these fresh, crisp, and rustling leaves.
How beautifully they go to their graves!
how gently lay themselves down and turn to mould!
--painted of a thousand hues, and fit to make the beds of us living."

~ Henry David Thoreau, Autumnal Tints.


Two months ago, I wrote about the arduous project I needed to take on, to be able to stabilize this blog, preserve more than twelve years of work, and have the peace of mind to continue here. Specifically, it's been the major, systematic process of my retro-conversion of all my photographs from "the 'Bucket," to this server. Essentially, I've been kicking away the 'Bucket! Well, now about nine weeks on, I've completed the recent ten years of work, working backwards from the most recent- leaving me two years' worth of writing still to go. I'm almost done. And so is the autumn season, which is a beautiful time of the year, here in northern New England. Amidst this blog re-con and strenuous fulltime employment, I found bits of time to photograph outdoors- and certainly to journal-write. There are many burgeoning themes, which I've had to hold back during these recent months. But I'll get there, and the accomplishment of stabilizing my work will provide an energy of its own. I'm looking forward to this!

At this writing, autumn has but a few hours remaining, with the winter solstice at the doorstep. Green leaves steadily gave way to red and bright yellows.






Then, in a few rapid weeks, the progressively colder winds between inland mountains and the Atlantic loosened the leaves. I watched a great many feather their ways into local streams and rivers.







Leaves I saw wafting into nearby rivers- the Presumpscot, the Kennebec, the Saco, and the Androscoggin, along with shortened days and snows bring me to turning the leaves of books indoors. There are always new studies to find in well-forested libraries.




Along the journey, reading and writing are ever in tandem. Occasionally, I'll make my own notebooks- just to my tastes: about an A5 size and paper without lines.



Words continue to waft, even through complex and time-consuming projects. Liminal seasons, such as autumn, generate quiet energy reminiscent of the dormant woods in winter.

Persevering with notebook and camera, a new year awaits. The only appealing direction is to go forward.



Thanks so very much to all who have been faithfully reading. The rebuilt sections are gradually outnumbering the portions I still must rebuild. I'm raking plenty of leaves, preparing the ground for new growth. A blessed Advent and New Year to one and all.