Leaves do the manufacturing work in the plant economy and are therefore the foundation of energy and nutrition for our world. They go about this service in countless shades of green that extend over every available natural surface in the growing season. After their glowing newborn phase in the spring leaves get down to their business of solar energy conversion and organic chemistry. I wouldn't call them plodders, poets, or heroic. They just are, fundamental, soundless sustainers of the scheme of life. The departure of ubiquitous green at season's end draws belated appreciation to foliage in its demise. It becomes strikingly beautiful.
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European Barberry cycle,
fading leaves and
bright fruit |
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| Floating Leaves |
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Blueberry branch,
backlit |
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Lichens
a plant community
awakening after
summer drought and dormancy
|
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Cattails bowing out,
irrespective of water
cycles
|
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Cat brier stems and
berries,
fallen oak leaf,
sunshine
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Is it the sparseness of robust landscape features that brings joy to
these particulars? Is there a tenderness in departure? Is there secret
aesthetic knowledge of death and rebirth?
damn. I pause and stop here for a moment. I smile as I read, look and reflect. And I savor that your questions, and commentary, shed light on nature's process and inherent magic. thanks.
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