A lone brown and shriveled leaf of a sweetgum stands proudly against a backdrop of trees and sky on a late autumn early afternoon somewhere along Piney Woods Church Road.
Dec 122014
Dec 112014
On my afternoon ramble down Piney Woods Church Road today, I paused to photograph the very last leaf on a roadside pin cherry. After taking several shots of it, I reached up and touched it gently with my fingertips. It fell away from the branch tip, onto the waiting road edge.
Dec 102014
The wood oats have ripened now along Piney Woods Church Road. As the autumn and winter advance, seeds will slowly detach from the seed heads and disperse to the surrounding woods and fields.
Dec 092014
On this gray and grim afternoon, with dark clouds filling most of the sky but no rain falling, I went out in search of new wonders along Piney Woods Church Road. I found myself entranced by the bare branches of an aged, weather-beaten tulip poplar standing by itself in a pasture. I took several photographs looking up into the limbs. At one point as I stood snapping a series of photographs, a large bird, perhaps a black vulture but possibly a bald eagle, crossed my field of view. The bird, high above the poplar, turns a photograph that would otherwise be a portrait of a weathered pasture tree into a conversation between tree and bird, high above.
Dec 082014
On a chilly, gray afternoon, I encountered a flock of red-winged blackbirds, passing through on their journey south. They moved like a curtain of black across the sky, flashing spots of red in their flight.
Dec 072014
From my early afternoon walk down Piney Woods Church Road today, I offer these two images of autumn’s harvest: a cluster of ripe Russian olives (from a shrub that is, alas, highly invasive here in Georgia), and a shriveled beech leaf illuminated by the sun. It was another lovely day for a walk, with temperatures gently nudging 60 degrees.
Dec 062014
Some days, I take my pilgrimage along Piney Woods Church Road slowly, savoring every bit of the roadscape as I make my way to Hutcheson Ferry Road and back to Rico Road again. Other days, like this one, with dark gray skies and drizzle already getting underway, the experience was, I confess, much more tactical. As I slowly walked down the road, camera in hand, I suddenly saw exactly what called me to photograph it — a single leaf that had fallen and was pinned by a bundle of loblolly pine needles to a bare branch of a shrub. It was well above my head, and photographing it involved some guesswork since I could barely see the image on the viewscreen. Once I had the image I sought, though, I felt a sense of contentment — I had found what I needed for the day. Under even more leaden skies than before, I set off across a neighbor’s horse pasture for home.
Dec 052014
The more leaves I see on my walk this time of year, the more I appreciate their rich diversity. Each December leaf is a survivor of the growing season, carrying the scars of its journey from spring through autumn. It is those very scars that give each leaf its individual beauty and spark our capacity for wonder and delight. Like the Dirt Road Pilgrim who photographs them, these leaves, too, are pilgrims across time. They are also holy relics: doorways into the sacredness at the heart of nature.
Dec 042014
Even brown leaves can be quite lovely to behold — in this case, sweetgum and water oak. These photos are from my balmy afternoon saunter down Piney Woods Church Road earlier today.
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Dec 032014
For all the insects and spiders I see on my walks, not to mention cows and horses, animals rarely appear in my photographs. Bird close-ups require either incredible good luck or great patience, coupled with high-quality lenses with long focal lengths and large price tags. For all that I am fond of herps — frogs and toads, turtles, snakes, lizards — I don’t think a single one has appeared in nearly a year’s worth of images. Even the Eastern Gray Squirrel (Sciurus carolinensis), probably the most commonly-seen mammal along the road, has only made one appearance here. On this mild December afternoon, though, I encountered a squirrel hard at work rooting around in the leaves just beyond the horse pasture fence. Usually, by the time I see a squirrel it is beating a hasty retreat across the grass and up a tree. This time, though, I managed somehow to remain unnoticed while the squirrel spent several minutes poking around in the grass, occasionally uttering a low clucking sound. I got as near as I could, fearful that I would be betrayed by a thick layer of crisp and crunchy leaves. Finally, the squirrel followed a scent (or maybe just an inclination) up into a drainage pipe across the road, whose entrance was practically under my feet. Before he (or she) disappeared, I took quite a few photos despite having only a mid-focal-length lens; these two are my favorites.
