November 4, 2019.

11:35 AM.

56 ºF

A day exemplary of autumn. Cool, breezy, yellow toned, crunchy leaves, smells of decaying organic matter. I approached my sit spot in late morning and despite a chill from eastern blowing winds I remained warm in the sun under a tree that has until now shaded me from the light. Worried I’d be too distracted by the cold to focus, I was pleased to bathe in the sun beams; in actuality I was bathing in radiant sycamore leaves that covered the ground. I snuggled in to the pile of leaves and resisted the urge to curl over myself to keep warm.

I was pleased to note how the sunlight touched everything around me. The ground abounds with sepia toned leaf litter that glows from certain angles, looks leathery from some, and lifeless from others- the few green sycamore leaves that remain on the tree above wave to the fallen leaves around me. A sycamore across the stream caught my attention; it is totally bare of leaves, and has revealed a stark white trunk that is illuminated and almost ethereal. I paid particular attention to the patterns of sunlight in the water. With the sycamore nearly shed, there was nothing directly overhead to cast shadow anymore, and instead there was a wonderful display of light reflection on the bed of the stream through the water. Some linear patterns that oscillated with the currents, and other nebulous patterns that quivered with the flow of the stream- I commented in my journal that it was almost illusory but not quite patterned enough to be truly hypnotizing or deceptive.

The objects I chose to follow have developed with the change of the season, of course. The vine on the sycamore tree has been revealed in its entirety since the falling of leaves- not a development for the vine, but a change in my perception. A handful of leaves have started to yellow and the seeds on the vine have opened into an orange-white color, creamsicle-esque. The down log across the stream looks water heavy, I suppose from the recent rains and accumulation of decomposer biomass. A lovely thick moss has grown across the top- the remaining green in a landscape otherwise of pallor. My last object of observance is the leaf litter accumulation in the stream, particularly in the sycamore roots that stretch into the water. Leaf litter in the stream is minimal, and the water is especially clean. I believe the weekend rains washed out the stream of debris and muggy sediment. Leaves still accumulate on the far side of the water, but the flow of water is hardly impeded by leaf buildup. I noted a single major diversion of current due to leaf accumulation.

My spot has gotten louder as the season has progressed because it is a landscape dominated by trees that have shed their leaves. Overwhelmingly I heard leaves scattering over one another, falling into the river, rustling in the trees above. Somehow the leaves sound heavy- they make percussive impact when they land on one another, and I noted many times that leaves plop into the water as if they were pebbles.  Heavy machinery. Cars. Beeping. I appreciated the opportunity to listen intently. So much of our audible landscape is polluted with human activity- the sounds of nature go unnoticed but these sounds are guides that tell stories about the environment. I noticed bird calls, nondescript, crickets perhaps. The water was quiet.

 

Photos to come.