A Restless Wind

In a restless mood this gray afternoon, I headed out with my camera to look for wild grapes—or anything else of interest. It’s been a mild fall, and I imagined big, plump grapes to photograph (and maybe eat). The leaves are mostly gone, but I did find some beautiful color in small doses, like these poplars:


And a spray of some shrub I never notice until it turns a lovely pink:

pink shrub

And this small yellow filigree:

tiny yellow leaves

I did find the grape vines, but they looked like this:


So much for plump purple grapes! The birds had already found them. It’s November, after all, I realized. And no sooner had that thought occurred to me than the wind began to pick up, and everything I tried to photograph began to bend and thrash. Like this goldenrod:


And these grasses:


And even the dried, curled leaves:

weed curl

The wind sharpened and chilled, and I made tracks for home, Watson galloping behind me. In the space of a ramble, the season had turned. November had arrived.

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