“But give thanks, at least, that you still have Frost’s poems; and when you feel the need of solitude, retreat to the companionship of moon, water, hills and trees. Retreat, he reminds us, should not be confused with escape. And take these poems along for good luck!”
― Robert Graves
Atop a shallow slop, a tight cluster of trees rises straight and tall, a competition for sunlight and the nourishment it brings. Some less hearty members, namely the birches, lie extinguished on the forest floor, a testament to the nature of nature.
Among the fallen birches, delicate saplings and ferns rise up, surviving on the sparse light that seeps through the tight canopy high above. The forest floor, as noted in earlier posts is sparse, something I believe to be the result of the warm yet wet summer, which provided a thick and lush canopy but deprived the low ground plants of much-needed light. I’m hoping this is just part of a natural cycle which I have not witnessed till now.
As in previous posts, the bright gold of the maple trees dominates the background, broken up by patches of green. Yet, the green fades day by day, hour by hour, and all will soon be yellow and gold.
Tamron SP AF 90mm f/2.8 Di Macro 1:1 (272ENII)@90mm
1/4 sec, f/10.0, ISO 100