I started blogging in the dead of winter, January 5, 2009. At least a couple of my early posts, “Snow in the City” and “Winter’s Last Hurrah” were about winter. Spring was the topic of a post I entitled “Of Lambs and Lions.” To my best recollection I did not write anything about summer, perhaps because I did not have one, or at least was not able to enjoy it. I think I worked part of almost every day throughout the summer, having very few full days off to enjoy the summer by kayaking, climbing or backpacking. In fact, as I look back over the past several months, I wonder “what summer?” Now that it is fall and I am not working as much I am able to enjoy and appreciate the season and even have the time to take photographs of fall leaves in the backyard rock garden.
Randomly distributed brightly colored fall leaves among intentionally arranged rocks must hold some sort of deep, metaphorical and existential meaning, or at least serve as a Zen koan, inviting one to meditate on one’s existence and the meaning of life. What is the sound of one leaf falling? What language do rocks speak?