Faded Glory

I suppose we don't need any reminder that Summer has now reluctantly begun to make way for Autumn.  All around, the leaves are beginning to change colour, many flowers parade their final encore and the sounds are those of finality (for this year at least); the swan song is in the air.

I came across this butterfly whilst recovering a rugby ball from a flower bed.  Like the autumn leaves, its wings are fading; once glorious colours are now only shades of brown.  Yet it is still beautiful.

Having helped with a couple of funerals recently, the words of the old funeral service (which is seldom used now) came to mind:

Man that is born of woman hath but a short time to live ... He cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay.  

A little bleak perhaps, but a stark reminder of not only the fragility of life but its transience also.  Not only we but all of Creation are in an inevitable Autumn, waiting patiently for that eternal Spring to come...

Out of Season

Olympus OM-1, G.Zuiko 50mm f1.4, Fujifilm Sensia 100

The postman delivered some slides yesterday of pictures that I took last October (I only got round to posting them a couple of weeks ago). Included were a few autumnal shots and one that mad me sad, a picture of our cat 'Sticky' (along with 'Charlie' the kitten) taken just a couple of days before he died.

Olympus OM-1, G.Zuiko 50mm f1.4, Fujifilm Sensia 100

It's funny how pictures bring back to life old memories. The moment you press the shutter release a moment in time is forever captured - for better or worse. I was speaking with someone who lost their elderly mother recently and of the emotions that looking at old pictures brought. There is something uniquely special at looking at pictures of old family members, your parents or grandparents when they were children. Moments in time captured on a thin square of film.

Olympus OM-1, G.Zuiko 50mm f1.4, Fujifilm Sensia 100

What photos that we have taken will be looked at by our decedents in a hundred years from now...?

Putting down roots

Nikon D70s, f10, 1/16 sec, ISO 200, 28mm equivalent (click to enlarge)

Our favourite tree is one that we grew from an acorn brought back by my stepfather from Canada. It is a Red Oak or Quercus Rubra (please feel free to correct me on that one). We planted it first of all in a small pot and it has graduated every couple of years to increasingly larger pots as it slowly but surely matured. Now we have it in an old wooden barrel that's been sawn in two (the kind you find in any garden centre). I doubt we could find a bigger pot so it is going to have to be planted soon.

Here's the thing. When it's planted that is it, no more moving. It will literally put down its roots until the day eventually comes (hopefully several generations in the future) when a storm, or disease or a need for it to be chopped down comes. What will the world be like then?! The tree has moved as we have moved house and in the same way that it has only partially put down roots so have we, settling but always in the knowledge that it will not be permanent, that the time will come, don't know when, but it will come that we shall be on the move again.

One of our dreams is to have our own place, a small cottage somewhere to escape to. I would be happy to plant our tree there...

Autumn thought

Panasonic LX1, f2.8, 1/100sec, -0.3EV, ISO 80, 28mm equivalent (Click to Enlarge)

It's strange how dead and dying leaves can be so beautiful. There's something very glorious about walking through an autumn woodland, whether it be the quality of the low silvery light filtering through the hues of reds, browns and yellows, or the rustle of leaves beneath your feet, an enchanting carpet of decay.

But death is necessary in order to facilitate life. New leaves could not grow in the spring if the old remained. God is a God of new beginnings...

Listen carefully: Unless a grain of wheat is buried in the ground, dead to the world, it is never any more than a grain of wheat. But if it is buried, it sprouts and reproduces itself many times over. In the same way, anyone who holds on to life just as it is destroys that life. But if you let it go, reckless in your love, you'll have it forever, real and eternal.

(John 12:24-25 Message)

Hanging on to the Summer...

Nikon D70s, 50mm, ISO 200, 1/125 sec, f8. (Click to enlarge)

Even though the Buddleia is way past its best, this Peacock Butterfly doesn't mind. In order to get this close to take a photo I had to improvise by sellotaping a magnifying glass to the front of the lens! Most were blurred, but this one came out alright...