Waiting for the Bus

 We live in Paradise. Never is that more apparent than in September, when everything is ripe and full and the meadows haven't been mowed for awhile. Oh, I hate to see them mow right before fall, because then it stays barren all winter, no butterflies, no beautiful weeds sticking up out of the snow, no frost-rimed Queen Anne's lace. But the new guy who's tending our elderly neighbor's fields did come and mow it all down. These photos were taken before he came.

There's a little pair of eyes looking back at you in this first photo. You can see them better in this one:

It's been a very dry late summer. We're finally getting a slow soaking rain today. Chet and I ran anyway, and we both got a hot bath when we got home. Bad weather looks worse from inside a window. Once you're out in it, it feels kind of good. After the first mile.

 

When the bus comes, it trails a rooster-tail of dust behind it. On this day there was a sundog, too, a little strip of rainbow catching the 7:45 AM sunshine.

There is another little sundog who waits for the bus, too.

He guards Liam's pack, sits patiently and listens for the roar of the bus. He always knows when it's coming. He can hear it before we can.

        He checks for squirrelts in the huge pin oak overhead. He's never found one there, but he keeps checking anyway.

 

He's never more beautiful than in the morning sun, waiting for the bus, his satin coat gleaming. 

Here on Indigo Hill, where bluebirds sing the morning in.

View from the Tower

For those new to this blog, we have a 42' tall birding tower atop our house. It lets us see incredible things, opens up our eyes to the glory all around us. Many of our 184 species of birds have been seen first from this tower.

The tower is in its prime in May, September and October. Not only can you hear for a ridiculous distance all around, but you can see flyovers for miles. And oh, the trees. The beautiful trees.





Before it's too long gone, I have to show you some of the fall splendor we enjoyed from the birding tower on Indigo Hill. I look at these pictures, with the leaves now gone nearly a month, and can't believe what a feast it was. But it's gone until next October, and I'm glad I took so many photos.


The gold trees in the foreground are mostly sassafras, with some tupelo (red) worked in.

I suppose I could work on some kind of tourism board for southern Ohio, a place that probably does not spring to mind as a prime fall destination. But it is. It is achingly gorgeous. And it is in spring, too, except that the golds are replaced by filmy reds and greens and yellow.

The north view off the tower. All our weather comes from here.
Now panning northeast, turning clockwise:
East view, the front yard and vegetable garden (with Liam on a tire swing):
and looking south, down the meadow.
The sumac in the meadow was spectacular this year, painting a tapestry of reds and golds.
While the sunshine shots are lovely, I really dig the way autumn foliage looks when skies are leaden.
That same north view looks so different on a blue-grey day, especially when some of the leaves have fallen.
There's a fairy tale quality to the landscape.

I click and click, hoping to capture those qualities of light. Oh, my.
Oh, my oh my.


If you're intrigued by the tower and want to learn more, read the full story of its conception and execution at my web site, under Writings/A Room With a View.