MY AUTUMN RITUAL

I love the changes that autumn brings, the cooler temperatures, the colors shifting from the bright pinks and buttery yellows of the summer flowers to the rusts and burnt oranges of the leaves, as if summer had consumed itself with growing, and now it turning to colors that, while still beautiful, are counting down the days until the frosts. There’s a sweet melancholy about it, but also—perhaps because I was a student for a lot of years—there’s a feeling of a fresh start, of renewed optimism. When I lived in High Country, I would take more pleasure drives in autumn than at any other season, to take in the deep gold of the cottonwood leaves, the fading purples of the fireweed, and the crisp air carrying the sounds of the elk rut.

Along the north shore, the maple trees turn to flame, Virginia creeper vines go even deeper, into magenta, and the V’s of Canada geese are heard throughout the days. My autumn drives now take me past fields of faded cornstalks, waiting to be cut, and gnarled apple trees studded with a few overlooked fruit. The constant in both places is the autumn music I take along on my drives. I listen to everything from Berlioz to Enya to Don Henley, depending on my mood and the weather. Today, there’s a mild steady rain and not too much wind. The sky and the lake are almost the same pewter color, the waves accented by a few whitecaps. I’m heading out in a few minutes to run a couple of errands, and then take the long way home, and bringing the Don Henley CD with The Boys of Summer on it. I used to play that one a lot in bright autumn days in the foothills—so much it reminds me of one particular stretch of my old road. But in some ways that song is even more appropriate for here, beside the lake. Here are the lyrics to the first verse:

Nobody on the road
nobody on the beach
I feel it in the air
the summer's out of reach
Empty lake, empty streets,
the sun goes down alone
I'm drivin' by your house
Though I know you're not home

Since The Boys of Summer is a song about losing love, so it seems to fit the somber mood of the day. The photo was taken at the Point Pelee’s West Beach. You can almost hear the laughter echoing, see the ghosts of the picnic gear and umbrellas. The official video to this song, with its vintage footage, is a classic, too.



YouTube video posted by StuTTgartXpreSS

"NOBODY ON THE ROAD, NOBODY ON THE BEACH"

We are into our third day of overcast rainy weather here on the north shore of Lake Erie. Mind you, there’s snow over in Michigan, and a really deep lake effect snow forecast for the Cleveland/Buffalo/Pittsburgh area, so I suppose we on the west end of Lake Erie can consider ourselves lucky. But when the days go by with little more that the occasional peep of sunlight (usually just moments before it sets!) we have to work hard at making enough vitamin D. I take supplements, but I also have an SAD lamp on top of my computer. It’s shining down on me right now like a day at the beach. Almost.

Yesterday on my way to have coffee with a friend, I took a swing into the marina for these shots. There were a few cars in the lot - people like me, just sitting, enjoying the beautiful somber view, but all the boats slips were empty. A few lights in the park were on, as if the last person to leave at the end of summer had forgotten to turn them off. I thought the lamps looked so pretty, so I lingered a moment with the lyrics to "The Boys of Summer" running through my head.

PARADOX (OSI)

Fermi asks…if, why
paradox is the answer
Sagan is smiling






From Wikipedia: The Fermi paradox is the apparent contradiction between high estimates of the probability of the existence of extraterrestrial civilizations and the lack of evidence for, or contact with, such civilizations.

The extreme age of the universe and its vast number of stars suggest that if the Earth is typical, extraterrestrial life should be common. Discussing this proposition over lunch in 1950, the physicist Enrico Fermi questioned why, if a multitude of advanced extraterrestrial civilizations exist in the Milky Way galaxy, evidence such as spacecraft or probes are not seen. A more detailed examination of the implications of the topic began with a paper by Michael H. Hart in 1975, and it is sometimes referred to as the Fermi-Hart paradox. Another closely related question is the Great Silence—even if travel is hard, if life is common, why don't we detect their radio transmissions?

Absence of evidenced is not evidence of absence
Carl Sagan, American astronomer (1934 – 1996)

They’re not here, they’re not coming
Don Henley, from Inside Job (2000)


For more poetic interpretations of this prompt, or to participate yourself
visit One Single Impression
Photo of VLA (Socorro, New Mexico) from Shutterstock