A Spare Beauty

_B180595-Edit

1.

 

_B180629-Edit

2.

 

_B060254

3.

 

_B220839-Edit-Edit

4.

 

_B220835-Edit

5.

 

_B180613-Edit

6.

 

_B180601-Edit

7.

 

_B180589-Edit

8.

 

_B060259-Edit

9.

 

_B060245-Edit-2

10.

 

20171118_155811-Edit

11.

 

20171122_103751

12.

 

20171122_103859

13.

 

_B220796-Edit

14.

 

_B060218-2

15.

 

_A281466-Edit

16.

 

_B180628-Edit

17.

 

Visit   https://lynn-wohlers.pixels.com/   to purchase framed or unframed prints on paper. Also available on wood, metal or acrylic.  If you don’t see the photograph you want on the site, let me know and I will make it available.  Free shipping is available on 11/27/17.

*

Just six months ago I was reveling in Spring flowers and the lengthening days of May. The air was charged with promise, and each time I went outdoors I knew I would find even more beauty. November’s pleasures are not as obvious, but they can get under your skin. There are days I have to force myself to go out into the wet chill – not only is it unpleasantly dark and wet, but I don’t expect the abundance of visual treats that I find in Spring.

I look harder these days to find the beauty, much harder. In this darkening time of year the rewards can be dramatic – mysterious dark woodlands, raging rivers, the ruined grace of a last leaf clinging to a branch tip.

Our native Vine maples (Acer circinatum) are some of the last trees to drop their leaves.  The species is variable; some trees show off in shades of green, yellow, orange and rose all at once, while others present a restrained palette of yellows and golds.  The play of light on a Vine maple’s golden leaves creates a delicately romantic scene even on an overcast day. The trees throw a warm wash of light onto a dim woodland where dark, hulking evergreens suck out the light (#1, #9).

Like certain Japanese maples, the Vine maple’s leaves are rounded but also lobed (#6 & #7). In fact, this tree is the only representative of its group outside Asia; it’s closest relatives are Japanese and Korean maples. A smaller under-story tree with an open habit and delicate branches, it can be easy to overlook, especially among the massive cedars, firs and hemlocks.

The leaves in #2 and #3, are obviously maple leaves but they have more deeply cut lobes than the Vine maple. They’re from our native Big Leaf maple (Acer macrophyllum), a large deciduous tree with huge leaves that have mostly fallen to the ground by this time of year. The leaves make a rich mulch on the forest floor, and on the fallen cedars and Douglas firs that interrupt the forest (#17).  Ferns, shrubs and more trees will take root on top of these logs, thanks to all the decaying biomass and our wet climate.

Three photos (#4, #9, #10) show scenes at Moss Lake Natural Area, a county wetland preserve. Many trees around Moss Lake are covered with deep layers of moss, lichens and ferns, like the tall Western Hemlock (Tsuga heterophylla; #9).  As tree stumps slowly rot they too play host to deep layers of moss (#10), providing perfect spots for seedlings to get started. The preserve’s shallow, boggy lake (#15) is a calm setting for a clump of rushes (Juncus sp.).

Four of these photos (#5, #12, #13, #14) were taken in the rain on a day trip into the mountains.  Index, a small town about an hour northeast of Seattle, has a reputation for the best rock-climbing in the state, on rock like the granite face seen in #14. You can bet no one was climbing on the cold, rainy day we were there, as the North Fork Skykomish River raged past the town under low clouds ( #12, #13) and Red alders receded into the fog (#5).

Deception Falls (#4) is about 75 miles from Seattle and about ten minutes this side of a pass over the North Cascade Range. Deception Creek tumbles steeply over rocks as it meets the Tye River here, and an old growth forest dripping with mosses and ferns makes it a magical spot, even in the rain. When we left the house the sun was peeking out, but as so often happens this time of year, by the time we hit the foothills and began climbing the road into the Cascades, we were under rain clouds. I huddled under a tree to change lenses as carefully as I could, but sure enough, I let a raindrop fall on the sensor so most of the photos have a big smudge on them. Oh well, it’s fine now and we’ll go back another day!

#16 was taken at Marymoor Park, at the head of Lake Sammamish. The round leaves are the Fragrant waterlily, an import from eastern North America that’s an invasive weed here, pretty as it is.

Magnificent trees, serene lakes, fern-covered forest floors – they wouldn’t be the same without our wet climate, and they really are beautiful any time of year. You just have to go out and look.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This entry was posted in Nature Studies, Pacific Northwest, photography and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

69 comments

  1. I love the Moss Lake Natural Area trees with their deep layers of moss, lichens and ferns, Lynn. Of course all your photos are wonderful. I personally prefer the muted tones of late autumn and winter, so I find these quite beautiful. 🙂

    Like

    Reply

  2. Lovely, almost otherworldly. Many of the leaves are so pale they’re almost ghostly – seeing the iron bridge was reassuring. I’m from New York – lots of sugar and silver maples, but not those Big-Leaf ones, envious. And all that lovely moss and mist.

    Like

    Reply

    • Thanks Robert, I was trying to convey that other-worldly feeling in some of these. Your comment about the iron bridge is funny – the rivers do get scary here, but we were told by a local that day that river wasn’t all that high, believe it or not. I grew up in Syracuse and Western NY, then NJ, so I know those woods! The Big-leaf maples are amazing trees, with leaves sometimes as big as a dinner plate, and mature trees holding a huge weight of moss and ferns. Every place has its beauty, as you know. I’m interested in celebrating the beauty of whatever particular place I find myself in.

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

      • I’m living in Boston right now, but I’m from Waterloo (1/2-way between Syracuse and Rochester). The Harvard arboretum isn’t too far from where I live, so I’m going to learn a few new trees there, I already found out the sweet gums are beautiful in the fall.

        Like

        Reply

      • I bet that arboretum has some fine specimens. I see Sweet gums around here, planted along streets and in towns – they bring great color, even though we don’t have the freezes that I think enhance color in New England.

        Like

        Reply

  4. Dear Lynn, it is so interesting reading about your region’s nature. You seem so lovingly connected to everything around you, it can warm one’s soul.
    I love your pictures #7 and #6 most, maybe because I love everything that’s light these days, but of course, all of your pictures sketch a beautiful view of autumn. Thank you so much!

    Like

    Reply

    • What good words to hear, Ule, because being connected to the place where I am is important to me so I’m happy that shows. I was really happy with those two photos you mention, and I too gravitate to the light – I wonder why! 😉 Have a good week!

      Like

      Reply

  6. I love “the ruined grace of a last leaf clinging to a branch tip.”, very well put. And you’re out in the rain, which is more than I’ve managed so far with my new TOUGH! Referencing the photo numbers in your text is also a good idea.
    Here, I’m caught by: 4 and 9 are very wild and striking, elemental I would say; and 15 is alive and active, and making off leftwards! 16 is simply beautiful. A 🙂

    Like

    Reply

    • Ha ha! Yes, we didn’t really intend to be in the rain, but we’d driven so far, might as well get out and slog through it a little. But the photos aren’t so great when it’s coming down. Thanks for letting me know which photos you gravitate towards – #4 was almost too chaotic, but I worked on it and tamed it a bit. #9 is something you see regularly here, but often those trees are surrounded by many others and hard to single out in a photo. Thank you Adrian, and have a great week!

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  8. Thank you for such wonderful photos.Your description of your trip to Deception Falls put me right back to the years I lived on the West Coast of BC. I could smell the air and feel the dampness. Oh how I loved our foraging in the woods. Not quite the same here on the prairies, although it does have a beauty of its own.

    Like

    Reply

  9. When I read your title, I laughed out loud because of a fun and quite unrelated association. I have an acquaintance in Maine who has two sons, known affectionately as “the heir and the spare.” I’d not thought of him in some time, since he stopped posting to his blog. I need to get in touch.

    On the other hand, your willingness to share some of your “spare” beauty always is appreciated. Like so many photographers, you have a good bit of drama in the landscapes around you. It certainly leaves me envious, but on the other hand, it’s also a reminder that the challenge here is to find a way to make the distinctly non-dramatic interesting. Our fog isn’t your fog, for example — but at least we had fog yesterday morning. It’s a sign of changing seasons, and of a sparer beauty to come.

    Those ivory-colored leaves are a knockout!

    Like

    Reply

    • I’m embarrassed to say, I idn’t even think of the multiple meaning s of the word “spare.” Oh well, it works either way! There is plenty of drama around here, it’s true, especially in the mountains, but I guess every landscape presents its own set of challenges, and opportunities. I can certainly find a bit of envy for your abundance of interesting flora. Glad you like those pale leaves – it was a pleasant surprise on a day I wasn’t expecting much. Have a good week!

      Like

      Reply

    • People get attached to places, and this one has such a strong character, I can understand feeling homesick for it. It’s hard to feel that upbeat about this time of year for me, but I’m working on it! Thanks for stopping by and commenting.

      Like

      Reply

    • You often have favorites that are a little different from other people’s or from what I might expect; it’s very interesting. You’re right, Spring gets all the love. I think in New York especially, fall is fabulous, and early winter can be fine. late winter on the other hand…well, we just have go somewhere sunny & warm, right? Or duck into a greenhouse. Or hole up in the coffee shop. Good to hear from you!

      Like

      Reply

  19. Again so beautiful pictures ! Lovely !! All these tender leaves – as if they are flying. You caught the nicest moments of autumn in your fotos. As you said: there is always beauty to be found. We just have to search and look. The pictures Nr. 7,15,16 are my favourites. They are all very beautiful, but Nr. 15 and 16 – they are so poetic – dreamlike – wonderful 🙂 And the leaves in Nr. 7 are magical. The woods are fascinating with moss and lichen, like in a fairy tale…..I love autumn 🙂

    Like

    Reply

  22. Curious about the reason this species is called a vine maple, I searched but didn’t find a direct answer. A couple of sources mentioned the fact that in this species a limb can arc over into the ground and generate new roots. I wonder if that kind of arc reminded people of a vine.

    Like

    Reply

    • Steve, that could be true, but I wonder if that is seen enough to have made it the reason for the name. I think it may be more about the relative look of that tree to our other maple, the Big Leaf Maple, which is a huge, sturdy tree. I think the woods here may have somewhat fewer species than in warmer places, so particular species’ characteristics could show in relation to others. The Vine maple is vine-like in the sense that it has very thin branches and often thin, multiple trunks. Though it doesn’t behave like a vine, compared to the massive, upright trees it mixes with – Douglas firs, Red cedar, Western hemlock & Big leaf maple, it’s shape overall is sort of vine-like. Just a wild stab here at a reason – it is always interesting to find out why plants were given their names. (I read about limbs arcing over and getting pinned down, then generating new roots too – amazing. I haven’t seen it, but I haven’t looked for that either).

      Like

      Reply

  26. You do it every time, but this essay is especially beautiful. My favorite line (as it is Adrian’s) is “the ruined grace of a last leaf clinging to a branch tip.” Wow. As for the photographs, number 9 stands out for me. I love the colors and the light especially. Other favorites: Number 1—the leaves look like they’re sprinkled along the branches; number 11—the way you put me on that path and the overall glowy look of the scene; and numbers 15 and 16.

    Like

    Reply

    • That is nice to hear, seriously. #9 has the kind of light you see when the sun is actually out, and you go into a mature woodland in the afternoon. The leaves are gone now from those Red elderberries, but a week the light will be working its way back into our lives, and those are some of the first leaves to appear in Spring….

      Like

      Reply

  27. Such a strong sense of place, and your connection to it, comes through here. I particularly like the misty, mossy green images, but in the first one I love how you have the maple leaves dancing through against the cedars. Connection to place is very important to me, and I have really focused on that these last many years, but oh how I long to return to the Northwest.

    Like

    Reply

  28. Pondering your struggle with winters darkness, I can’t help but think it could be the tendency to head into the woods where the light is sucked out (as you put it)? I think I tend to head for the beaches where the mist mutes the light, but doesn’t extinguish it. I even find some of our wildest stormy days exhilarating, while the woods can be downright dangerous during storms. Just a thought…?
    As usual, love all your images, but there’s something so calming about #15. Could it be that I just like bodies of water no matter the size?

    Like

    Reply

    • You’re absolutely right, Gunta. The forest eats up the light but that’s what we have here, excepting agricultural land, which I will drive to when I need a sense of open space. It would be different if I lived near the coast. That’s one reason why we’re considering a move to Anacortes, which is surrounded by water and islands. The light is different there and there are still woods, which I do love. I miss the exhilaration of a storm, we don’t get that here but we sure did in NYC!

      Like

      Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

Gravatar
WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Cancel

Connecting to %s