Fall’s apples aren’t ripe yet, but they are already large and heavy on the trees. It won’t be long before the first of the season are on my table.
I haven’t had much luck this week taking photos in the forest on Roundtop. Everything looks the same to me—lots of very dense greenery and the occasional vertical browns of the tree trunks. I need a few of those leaves to fall or thin out to open up the space a bit, both to let in more light and also to reveal the rest of the landscape. The local birds aren’t cooperating either this week. They are all skittish and the strong light makes silhouettes even of the bright bluebirds. So for the moment, I am taking my morning photos as I’m heading down off the mountain.
Some of my difficulty is due to the ever-shortening days. Early mornings in a deep forest are already much darker than they were a month ago. For a few moments on this cloudy morning, I thought about taking my headlamp when I walked the dogs. I didn’t have to do that today, though I will have to pretty soon, at least until I get out onto the lane where the sky is visible.
Wouldn’t you think after all the years I have lived that the date when I have to start using a headlamp in the mornings would be ingrained in my memory? I can remember Christmas and New Year’s, birthdays and anniversaries. Why can’t I remember when I need to start wearing the headlamp? I’m always surprised at how much I forget from year to year. Of course, that does make every year a new one, in many ways, which isn’t a bad thing at all. But I still think I should remember the date when I’ll need that headlamp.