...in northern alberta. we don't see the brilliant blaze of red touched with gold that eastern canada gets. there's the occasional flash of red in a tree, but reds this far north like to hug the ground, and are more common in shrubs and undergrowth. gold is the most predominant autumn tree color here, framing the darkening green of spruce and pine. by winter the evergreens appear almost black - a combination of coniferous heredity and failing sunlight.... this photo was taken a couple of weeks ago, just as the leaves began to turn.
the trails through the city centre follow a ravine shaped over the years by a muddy little creek. cyclists, pedestrians and wildlife meander back and forth across it on numerous narrow foot bridges. i haven't counted the bridges, but i'd hazard a guess of a dozen or so. the potential for under-bridge dwelling trolls is huge, but word hasn't reached the trolls yet... maybe they don't like the climate - or perhaps i'm unfairly stereotyping trolls. maybe they don't all terrorize travelers, demanding a toll to cross the bridge. still, i think of trolls every time i cross a footbridge.
the asphalt paved walking trails are strewn with gold. forsaken leaves lay at my feet in the bright, sun like shining pieces of eight on the dark surface of the path. more leaves whisper overhead as the fallen crunch underfoot. an occasional golden offering drifts down. we're at the halfway point of autumn now, with trees still beautifully garbed in brilliant color, and the earth scattered with brilliance.
there's a large, lone manitoba maple on the landscaped lot of an apartment building near me - brilliant gold with trunk and branches of jet. the grass surrounding it is still very green, as we've had rain for most of september. beneath the tree is a perfect circle of gold, a brilliant spotlight on the lush green, and against the upright black trunk of the tree. the maple's solo performance - its season premiere, against the darkening sky.
as summer exhales her last breath, the air redolent with moist earth and ripe berries. so thick and rich and sweet with scent i marvel that i can see through this dense aromatic, invisible olfactory fog.
there's frost every morning now. the world wakes, yawns and stretches. the first morning rays of gold pour over the horizon and prickle the edges of leaves and twigs with sparkling astonishment.