#walking

The weather has turned so cold over the past week or so, mostly grey with the mountains getting their first coat of white. But today came up sunny, a nice change. I watched the blue sky while I worked, and finally managed to bundle up and go for a walk at sunset.

I found these hardy blossoms braving the low temperatures.

All photos: PKR

Some of the gardens still have flowers – especially late-blooming roses – but I was only interested in the roadside variety, the ones with no assistance, coming up along the edges, defying asphalt, gravel, cars, and dogs.

They’ve felt the bite of frost every morning for over a week, they’re starting to frizzle, but they’ve still got color and beauty to give before it all goes brown and white for the season.

Humble, bowed but not faded, a passing late pollinator might still find joy. And if the pollinators don’t find joy, well, at least this walker did.

On an evening walk last night, I took a picture of these blackberries to remind myself to go and pick some of them and make jam to mark the beginning of September.

And then I liked the picture, so I took a few more of flowers as they disappeared in the twilight.

The air was alive with singing crickets, the distant bells of the sheep pastured near our own place, and the rustle of cows settling in for the night. The air was cool and soft as the last rays of sun retreating over the mountains.

The camera didn’t pick up the nuance and definition of the half moon or the black paper cut-outs of the cypress trees against the darkening sky.

But I hope you get the idea. It had gotten too late and too dark for me to go for a run here, my usual running loop, so I walked it instead.

It was a good walk.

champagnewhisky

Never cry over spilt milk. It could've been champagne. Or whisky.

Last of the Season

Blackberry Meander