"And diamond stars shine glitter bright. Gorging your Sanhedralite... Words are falling to the floor. Glands stand pouring fruit tree. Now they glisten on the waterline... See how you are at the shore" and if you know where those lyrics are from, you are singing along with the song in my head as I review these photographs from the last three weeks.









Early this month I was honored to have Rebekah as a guest. We stayed up all night and we were lucky to wake in time before the sun went dark.

I can touch the sky over the surface of the water.



Sunlight sent rainbow shards dancing out all around us.



Rebekah looks comfy lying on the bright yellow leaves. She was like a velvet black cat pouncing all along the trees. I like how wide her eyes are here, like at any moment she was about to leap up and play.



Those yellow leaves really spoke to us. Couldn't help but let our hair loose down over the ground. The sunlight perfectly frames Rebekah's face here.



I love this drainage tunnel and how mysterious it can be. A magical juxaposition of man made material and nature. In the distance the opposite tunnel opening appears skull-like. Rebekah seems very steampunk here, her camera her mystical divining device...



Savannah was a blur of impatience struggling against the chill in the air.



Almost a week later, it was all clouds and ice and rain.



The shore is crowded with fallen leaves that seem inviting, a heavy wet blanket of color I want to dive into.



These leaves appear like barrettes in a thorny mass of branches.






All summer long I've watched these two little trees intertwine. As the green fades, the branches and leaves seem to depart and more of a portal emerges, leading to tiny places beyond.



More drops of wet bejewel the leaves.



Even without sun, the darkened birches are warmed by the orange leaves.



It was snowing here, but only barely.



The snow didn't stay. It's too early for that. Instead the wet hangs like moonstone drops all along the naked branches.



A dry day.



I can't resist playing in the leaves.



The marshland is flooded from the rain, but here the honey and marigold color of the leaves make me think it's flooded with honey and I long to get stuck in there and dream.



My favorite neighborhood weeping willow calls to me...


















I look forward to more adventures with Rebekah this Samhain weekend. The trees are always there, inviting us to play!