Leave the Light On

October evening: an elm’s worn-out finery finds a bright spot in the night.

At the Brattleboro Parking Garage.

A Near Miss

Summer leaves; autumn is cleared for landing.

Columbine Quietude

October’s furtive touch casts the brightness of summer in a darkening palette: columbine wine amongst the maple’s cast cloak.

Beauty Fades

Silent stone maidens, scarred and worn, surround the tomb of Col. James Fisk, Jr., the infamous robber baron and railroad tycoon; native son of Brattleboro, Vermont, “Jubilee Jim’s” larger-than-life story was cut short in 1872 at 36 years of age by gunfire from a jealous rival.

At the Prospect Hill Cemetery above the Connecticut River, in Brattleboro, Vermont. Fisk’s monument was designed by another esteemed local, sculptor Larkin Mead.

October Project

The farther you run

The more you recall

The loss of your innocence

After the fall…

From After the Fall by the October Project

The Other Side

At the underground winter burial vault: an sad door sags on its hinges, leaving a gap for the ancient cold darkness to brush against the crisp, bright air of an autumn day.

Under the Prospect Hill Cemetery in Brattleboro, Vermont, once again.

Autumn Afternoon Reverie

Late on a Sunday, a silent stone maiden casts her eyes downward to the quiet grounds of Prospect Hill Cemetery in Brattleboro, Vermont.

And… (small celebratory noises) this makes post #200 on Quotidiously, folks. Thanks for following and liking us all these many months!

View from the Caponier

Looking up from the depths of the seaside caponier in the outer defenses of Fort McClary at Kittery Point, Maine, to the blockhouse perched above on a small hill. Fort McClary’s site has been an important defensive position for Portsmouth harbor since 1689 and was expanded and reconstructed many times for the next two hundred years. The strategically important Portsmouth Naval Shipyard lies just inside its sentinel position on the tidal Piscataqua River, which creates the seacoast border between the states of New Hampshire and Maine.

Whose Pipes These Are

The carefully constructed tubes of an organ-pipe mud dauber wasp align under the eaves of a Guilford barn. The brilliant metallic blue wasps build up their ridged nests layer upon layer using tiny mudballs flown in from nearby puddles, the varying colors reflecting different sources. As the male stands guard, the female wasp fills each tube’s stacked compartments with a single egg and a stash of paralyzed spiders for the hatchlings to dine upon in their private chambers

That’s All Folks

Summer slants away as the trees begin to shed their fleeting finery; lawn chairs wait in the gathering shade for another curtain to rise.