Beneath Color

A night in the thirties has chased the last color from the field.
Where August boasted the deep purple of Ironweed riding high above a waving hillside of spicy golden flower tops, all has faded to brown.

field behind barn, August 22, 2008

field behind barn, October 19, 2008

The bracts, now open in flat, petaline forms, reflecting the angled light of an autumn day. Beautiful in their own way, these structures beneath the color, seen only after its passing.

Tall Ironweed, seeds gone

Soft seed heads cast hundreds to the wind, while Goldfinches and sparrows cling to their swaying stems, riding the breeze as on a small chestnut steed.
Up and down.
Up and down.

Virginia Creeper on barn siding

Following Butterflies

We’re on that bumpy road to autumn.
Where chilly mornings give way to hot afternoons.
And a light jacket becomes your best friend—never too far from reach.

Cherry leaves

We received, after weeks without, a day of rain.
Just enough to brighten the fading colors of summer in the field and leave its dust-spattered signature on my newly cleaned windows.
It seems drier in these last several years, than I can ever remember.
The grass on the lawn, crunchy and brown.
Trees’ leaves, curled and already fallen.

Maple leaves

A sort of sad scene, as fall can sometimes be. Especially when the eagerly awaited colors are missing from the landscape.

I find myself lingering longer.
Not wanting to go inside until I have found something more uplifting.
And, by finding it, remind myself that it is always there.
To be found, if I am patient.

Can you guess what the colored leaves belong to?

Like bright spots peeking through bent grasses.

Tall Ironweed

Or a single orange butterfly that lights on the brown seed heads of Tall Ironweed, and then skips on—
to Asters!

New England Asters

And the mystery plant, when all around is brown, boasting leaves in shades of orange, crimson and burgundy--
poison ivy!

Deep Purple

Ironweed, Vernonia sp.

The Ironweed stands tall in the field.
Where teasel has passed its lavender head to brown and graceful grasses lean. Branching broadly above the warming tones of goldenrod, with the disposition to look me straight in the eye as I walk there.

I cannot leave without taking a bit of it with me, though its toughness plants it firmly in our baked clay soil. The dainty flowers riding atop the towering stems draw my eye every time.
Their delicate tubular flowers densely packed into each small head, and held in clusters ten feet high.



Glazed by morning dew.
Holding the days’ heat from under a setting sun.
Until autumn’s chill is with us.
It stands sturdy and strong.

Click to enlarge photos