into Navajo sandstone
as autumn arrives.
Meeting a friend at a local café to talk about photography and life has become a Sunday ritual for me. Our preferred shop is smallish; the background music doesn’t intrude too far into quiet conversation, and the drinks are just right. In the spring and summer we take our refreshments outside to a table, but by late November the furniture has been put away and rainy days, like today, have returned.
Puddles were growing on the sidewalk outside as I sipped my coffee. I watched people passing, headed to the several stores surrounding the café. But there was something about these folks, on this morning, strange and yet familiar all at once. With three shopping weeks left before Christmas, almost no one appeared to be hurrying.
Oregon once owned an honest reputation for wet weather, but recent drought years have tarnished that. Like many others, I’ve forgotten the sound of rain beating steadily on a rooftop. Perhaps those passersby, like me, were comforted by the return of its voice to autumn’s relaxing choir.
Every season offers special delights, none more so than Autumn.
My favorite color is October. —unknown
October is a hallelujah! —John Nichols
This is our favorite trio of black-tailed deer for this year. They visit often (calf manna, anyone?), knowing a good thing when they see it. We call the doe Raggedy, for her right ear, while the twins, a male and female, are Nubs and Sissie. Like most of the wildlife here, they live short lives. We’re grateful they’ve spent part of it with us.
Each breath, each heartbeat, each sunrise, extraordinary.
After a long dry summer, autumn is a hopeful change.
Darn the wheel of the world! Why must it continually turn over? Where is the reverse gear? —Jack London