Friday Ramble, Village of Scarlet and Bokeh

In the village, scarlets, plums and deep inky blues are creeping into view, their emergence out of summer's dusty greens motivated by slightly cooler evenings and gently ruffling winds at nightfall. When Beau and I potter off in the morning, there are glossy coins of dew everywhere. No frost yet though...

In summer, a small gasp of koi or nishikigoi (錦鯉, "brocaded carp") makes its home in the shaded pond underneath this Japanese maple, but the fish are about to be moved to indoor tanks for the winter, and the pond will be a different place, still and silent. I didn't know until recently that a colony of koi is called a gasp. On morning walks, Beau and I visit the pond and maple until all her leaves have fallen, and the water below her eloquent branches has frozen over and is covered with snow.

As often as I witness the turning of the seasons and the vivid entities coming into being, the morphing of the village into deeper and more intense hues is always enchanting, and it takes us (Beau and I) by surprise each and every year. Autumn transformations are magics of a wilder kind, and I can't imagine living this old life without being here among them and watching as they flare and swirl and dance, blithely remaking the world in stunning elemental colors.

Northern light dazzles the eyes in autumn, and it lingers lovingly on everything it touches in its daily journey across the eastern Ontario highlands. Why do I say such things? It is we restless mortals who are in ceaseless motion, and not the magnificent star at the center of our galaxy. I wish I could paint everything old Helios touches, but come to think of it, that is just what my lens is doing. All I do is hold the camera.