The Tinge in the Leaves

The tinge of color can be seen in the trees.  The  first mini-season of Autumn is upon us.  The chilly breezes are beginning to blow. Our love affair with the warmth of summer is ending. It is a sad parting.

The music of Autumn is melancholy.  It is the season of separation, of leaving, of dying.  The lyrics were written by  Joni Mitchell, and sung (in my head) by Tom Rush:

    "I get the urge for going

      When the meadow grass is turning brown

      Summertime is falling down and winter is closing in."

The song speaks to the loss of separation that comes with the season.   The separation of a friend who is leaving, of the changes in nature, with birds and geese migrating, and the grasses in the meadows dying.  

It is not yet officially Autumn, but the signs of the season are upon.  

The leaves are turning brown.  
Summertime is falling down.  
Winter's closing in.
Winter's closing in.

Walden Pond and Henry David Thoreau

31 October 2010: Early on this cold, gray Sunday morning, I drive out to Walden Pond, to visit the woods when it is quiet. I walk the paths around the pond, where some 165 years ago Henry David Thoreau also came to spend 2 years in the quiet of the woods.

Much has been written about Thoreau. But what touches me most is the idea of living simply and going to the woods for the quiet and peace of nature.

A Brief History of Walden Pond

The glacier: The story begins 15,000 years ago with the retreating Laurentide Glacier sculpting a deep fresh-water pond. Over much of the New England landscape, the glacial retreat carved out ponds and left mounds we now call hills or drumlins.

The transcendentalist: In 1845 this little kettle pond had a visitor. A 28-year old philosopher and graduate of Harvard College arrived in Concord, where his friend Ralph Waldo Emerson owned land on the north and east shores of Walden. Only 1 years earlier in Concord, the Fitchburg Railroad was built from Boston. This line provided transportation that allowed Thoreau to venture from Boston to the woods at Walden.

Life in the Woods: Thoreau proceeded to build a simple cabin near the pond, “squatting” on his friend’s land. His purpose is summarized on a sign near his cabin site. “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life. And see if I could not learn what it had to teach and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”


Below: The site of the cabin is marked by the granite stones
Below: Replica of the cabin (near the parking lot)


Below: Walden Pond as Thoreau would have seen it from his cabin.


Thoreau, a Kindred Spirit

In high school, Henry David Thoreau was one of my favorites. I really loved the idea of living simply, without a lot of clutter and distraction. I enjoyed reading about his days living near Walden Pond in Concord, Massachusetts. But, I lived over 200 miles (350 km) away in New York State, so I had no idea of what the pond or woods at Walden looked like.

But I came to know a secluded pond near where I lived. Pine Meadow Lake was deep in the woods away from paved roads, and about a 1/2 hour hike. It was like my little Walden Pond. As a teenager, I was shy, socially awkward. I didn’t not quite fit in, and felt my family did not understand this yearning within. So, like Thoreau, I too went to the woods was where I could think and clear my head. With sunlight glistening off the clear waters and filled with the starry idealism of the late ‘60s/early ‘70s, it was my little oasis.

Living in Massachusetts

I came to Boston for college, in part to get some distance from my family and become my own person. Though I was nearer to Walden, it was years before I visited. (I think the first time might have been skinny dipping in the moonlight while in college – not exactly a spiritual pilgrimage to the sacred ground where my kindred spirit lived.

A bit older now, I’ve been to Walden a number of times to walk around the pond and spend a few moments at the site of the cabin. The reservation at Walden is well-used by swimmers and hikers and fishers. It’s probably, too well used.

So, I came to visit early on this chilly Sunday morning, when the woods are quiet and peaceful. It is the last day of October. The foliage is long past its peak of brilliant hues. The sadness and melancholy of fall becoming winter is setting in. Yet, I came, to spend a few moments, to contemplate living simply, and to share this with my on-line friends.

Fall in My Favorite Park

Boston's Public Garden is near my office, so I stroll there often. Sometimes at lunch, sometimes walking to the subway at the end of the day. The park is beautiful in all seasons, but the fall foliage paints the park with a particularly stricking palate of colors.

Here's a sampling of my photos of fall in the Public Garden. For more photos, check out my blog Urban Vistas.

El Día de los Muertos

El Día de los Muertos (the Day of the Dead) is tomorrow, November 2nd. It is no surprise that the late autumn is a time to remember the departed. In the northern hemisphere, we witness the temperatures dropping, the sun lower in the sky as the days get shorter, and the death of annual vegetation. Here in New England, this takes the form of a vivid display of bright foliage.

Today (El Día de los Santos, or All Saints Day) was extremely beautiful, unusually warm and even sunny. I took a bike ride to the Mount Auburn Cemetery, one of the most beautifully landscaped cemeteries in the area. It was an appropriate day to take in the beauty of fall while contemplating our mortality.

One of my favorite reflections is found in Psalm 90 where one translation reads: “teach us to number our days that we may learn your wisdom.” Yes our days on earth are numbered, they are finite. But we must embrace our transitory existence and not be afraid of or obsessed with our eventual death. That is the wisdom we must learn, so that we can make the most of our lives.

The Psalm also says “for a thousand years to you……is like the passing of a single day.” This contrasts the eternal nature of God to our brief existence, with an understanding that time can be experienced differently, something that would be embraced in Einstein’s special relativity centauries later. Our lives pass in snippets of time, maybe a century at most. God spans the centuries (“por los siglos de los siglos”).

So, what becomes of us? Do we wither and fade and our life is extinguished, like the annual flowers in my garden with the killing frost? Christianity, Judism, Islam, and other faiths embrace an afterlife in heaven with God. Hinduism professes reincarnation. Others think death is the end. We don’t know the answer.

But while I was there in the cemetery, one thought came to me. I do know what will happen come April. Those same trees now displaying their brilliant foliage, after 4 months where their branches lay bear through winter winds and snowfalls, those very branches will bud forth in a glorious display of spring colors. Hope and life springs eternal.

A Snow Globe in October?

October in New England. Fall foliage. Brilliant colors. Hillsides and mountains draped in reds, yellows, oranges, and browns. Leaves falling on tree-lined streets.

That's what you normally expect. But whether it's a sign of climate change or just a fluke of the weather, but the scene was quite different yesteday in Massachusetts. It was snowing! And sticking!

The New England Patriots were playing in Foxboro, Massachusetts while the snow was accumulating on the field. It was like the stadium was in a snow globe!

Was I asleep for 2 months and woke up in December? What's with the weather? First we had rain and cool weather in June and the beginning of July. Then we had maybe 6 weeks of summer when we should have had 3 months. Now snow in October? ¿Qué pasa aquí?

View of the Charles River

Yesterday it was 80 degrees F. in April, and for Boston, that's like heaven!

So, in part encouraged by a reader of this blog, and in part because I just had the urge to get out there, we went for a bike ride along the Charles River. We're fortunate in the Boston area to have a long series of bike and walking paths that follow the river from Boston all the way out to Waltham, about 7 miles.

The river has many faces, in some places a placid pool with bordering marshes, in others passing old factories (like many an old New England mill town), and others with more formal development next to the river. Here's a few of the faces of the Charles on a warm spring day.

Below: Two Canada geese swim in the river near the Moody Street bridge in Waltham

Above: Rapids in the river below the falls. Though the banks are wooded, urban development lurks nearby, hidden by the buffer of trees.

Below: A towering stack rises above an old factory in Waltham. Note the silhouette of an abandoned railroad trestle crossing the river.

Above: A restful scene reminiscent of a lazy summer afternoon as a mother and small child (too small to see in photo) relax on the river bank under willow trees. In the background is a footbridge and another abandoned railroad trestle (part of the same rail line). [What can I say, I'm an engineer and I love bridges!]

Below: My all time favorite footbridge - the Blue Heron Bridge. It's a beautiful example of a slender graceful arch with cables supporting the walkway. And the greatest thing: if you're not walking or riding on the trail, you'd never know this little gem existed!



Above: The path in Newton snakes through woods next to the river. The trees just have a touch of their early spring light green foliage.

Below: The falls at Watertown, looking upstream at the early spring foliage along the banks. And, yes, another footbridge.


Above: One of the many arch bridges that cross the Charles.

Below: The dead tree and bording marshes present a natural foreground (pay no mind to the high-rise apartments in the background).

Appreciating Life Better Through Blogging

Blogging on whatever strikes me has intensified my observations and appreciations of the life and events that passes on around me. Life presents opportunities to find beauty and interest in the near-at-hand. (Take this view of a little pond in a new park here in Cambridge.)

Much of the time life becomes a repeated pattern of events: go to work, come home, eat, watch a little TV, pay some bills, keep in touch with friends, etc. Weeks pass as a series of low intensity events while life lives me and not the other way around. We become numb to life -- the intensity can be lost.

When I was younger, there were more spontaneous things I did with friends or places visited, and life had a greater intensity. But now that I'm living in the neighborhood of middle age, this repeated pattern of weekly events lived while trying to keep one's head above water (especially when work is busy) results in a life can become a bit of a rut at times.

But, I've found that blogging is a blessing that gives me an outlet where I can reflect on my feelings of moments and events as they enter my life. Momentary scenes are often filled with an intensity of feelings, thoughts, and connections.

Consider this photo I took: "August Sunset at Longfellow Bridge." This is taken from the train platform of Charles Street station looking west from Boston in to Cambridge. The Red Line subway and roadway cross the Charles River. First thing that moved me was the striking lighting effect created by eclipsing the setting sun with a lightpole, bathing the view in a warm yellow light. And the back-lit cloud over the steam power plant across the river. And the peaceful and empty view with only one young woman standing on the platform, no traffic on the bridge --- all in stark contrast to an otherwise bustling Saturday in Boston. It was Aug. 18th, and I was on my way to see the movie Vicky Christina Barcelona in its first week of release.

(As a transportation engineer, this one photo covers many interests including a unique view of the bridge, the train tracks, the Charles River, and the power plant across the river, one of the few surviving industrial landmarks of a once major manufacturing district built filled tidelands. The platform extension where the photo was taken was built in 1982, as part of a project I worked on).

Here's another favorite "Sunny Lane in Autumn" taken in the midst of Cambridge. On a rare warm October Sunday, with the delicious rays of the sun on my skin (as I yearned for the summer that is now past), I could sabor the respite from cooler days as I strolled comfortably in short sleeves and flip flops all the while taking in the colors of the autumnal arboreal transformation. I had always thought one really needed to get out of the city to see fall in New England. Drive up to New Hampshire and Vermont, take winding country lanes, find an apple stand, and hope it's not raining and cold. But, instead, the beauty of fall comes right to my fair city, if I just go out and appreciate it.

Fall Colors with Uplighting

I always love a garden with up-lighting at night. There's something almost other-worldly and ethereal, yet peaceful about it. And it’s just kinda cool. It’s that white light washing, but not completely obliterating the colors.

So, I came upon this plaza with uplighting on some trees. In any other season, it would be interesting, but at the peak of the fall foliage change, it really caught my eye.

So, I captured them the best I could. These photos almost gets the feel of seeing it with your own eyes.

Then I had some fun altering the lighting and color (it would be cool in a slow disolve video clip).

Autumn Color on a Warm Weekend

Fall colors on a warm day in New England -- that's a combination you can't beat!

Many tourists come here to see the display of fall colors, particularly in the mountains and hills of northern New England.

But I found that even here in the urban environs, I can find the beauty of the autumnal arboreal palate.

This weekend was particularly sunny and warm -- almost a little return of summer! Nice days for walking around and taking it all in. These are some images of color in the city near home.

A sunny lane - not in the country, but in the city!

Color near the hospital: