Golden Glow - Missoula, Montana

Thursday night, snow flurried amidst the headlight crossfire during my evening homeward commute. 

By Friday lunchtime, we were again ensconced in this sunny - albeit intermittently so - golden glow. 

Such are the varied and fickle delights of autumn in western Montana. 

Bare Or Full - Missoula, Montana

"Oh, to be free of myself, 

With nothing left to remember, 
To have my heart as bare 
As a tree in December; 
Resting, as a tree rests 
After its leaves are gone...
But still, oh so still 
While the winds come and go...
And heedless, heedless 
If anyone pass and see 
On the white page of the sky 
Its thin black tracery." 

From The Tree by Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)

Read the full text of this poignant  poem here.

Like Moments Of Time - Vaughn,Montana

"Time is a sort of river of passing events, and strong is its current; no sooner is a thing brought to sight than it is swept by and another takes its place, and this too will be swept away." - Marcus Aurelius (121-180 AD)

And so, we pause to savour small beauties while in their sphere, whether they be of time or of what surrounds us.

Green Grass Yet At Largent Bend - Vaughn, Montana

“We trample grass and prize the flowers of May, 
Yet grass is green when flowers do fade away.” 
- Robert Southwell, from "Scorn Not the Least"

Semi Still-Life - Missoula, Montana

 “But in a still life, there is no end to our looking, which has become allied with the gaze of the painter; we look in and in, to the world of things, in their ambiance of cool or warm light, in and in, as long as we can stand to look, as long as we take pleasure in looking.” - Mark Doty

Quiet Wood - Missoula, Montana

"It was the quietest wood you could possibly imagine. There were no birds, no insects, no animals, and no wind. You could almost feel the trees growing. The pool he had just got out of was not the only pool. There were dozens of others—a pool every few yards as far as his eyes could reach. You could almost feel the trees drinking the water up with their roots. This wood was very much alive." - C.S. Lewis, The Magician's Nephew

Winded Woods on Grant Creek - Missoula, Montana

“When the wind blows through a wood, its mass is cut and closed by every leaf, forming a train of jittery vortices in the air” - AliceOswald