Brown shades
Friday, 21 November 2025
I stretched my legs in the big park this morning, and Lake Clara Meer was a fine reflector. Note the brown shades that are typical of the leaves of Atlanta’s oak-dominant canopy trees.
Musings
Two-act play
Wednesday, 19 November 2025
Act One: young man photographing young woman. Aww.
A half-hour later…unexpected Act Two: switcheroo!—young woman photographing young man, with considerably more posing instruction.
And a mystery man at the tripod. BTW, what’s the tripod for in this play? And that second man? Or maybe there’re plans for a movie, too? Questions abound.
Note that although there are many ginkgo leaves on the ground, there are even more on the trees.
Leaf posing
Monday, 17 November 2025
Proof that gravity didn’t get shut down along with the Federal government.
Vegetation signals
Friday, 14 November 2025
We uncharacteristically ventured out this evening and took in a friend’s opening. We thought this flower arrangement was appropriate for paintings categorized as surrealism.
On the way home, I snapped this, proof that the pair of ginkgos up the street still have most of their leaves.
Snap
Tuesday, 11 November 2025
Ooops. Forgot this poor plant gifted to me months ago. It’s been on its own mostly since. It’s inside now.
This one, on the other hand, is right out in the midst of the Snap, surviving nicely (so far).
Fly in a bee costume?
Friday, 31 October 2025
Such a sunny afternoon!…perfect for a slightly longer walk than normal.
Autumnal changes
Saturday, 18 October 2025
So, midmorning I swept the balcony free of leaves. At 3pm I looked out and found a new crop had recolonized it. I’m looking at you tulip poplars. [Not this taxus, or whatever it is.]
No-milk scalloping
Tuesday, 14 October 2025
Is there a functional reason for the scalloped edges? Are edges more important than middles to the plant somehow (it’s counter-intuitive to me)? Do herbivores tend to avoid the leaves because they assume they are already nibbled?
Two critter stories
Monday, 13 October 2025
Today, I found an anole indoors. Does this happen every autumn? Something like that. I gently captured it and released it outdoors. Good outcome. [I am mystified as to how they get inside.]
Last week, on our way up to Lake Superior, we were slow-motoring on a sand road through the visual mosaic of leaf color and sun-n-shade when what should appear on the hood just past the wipers but a mouse. It must have come from an open area at the base of the wipers. Up on the hood, it had little traction, and I hit the brakes hard and zip, it flew off the hood forwards, and I saw it run into the ditch to the left. Another good outcome.