Evening power. Even when the sun is gone, its power is felt. Even though productivity was high for me today, it is nothing compared to this Grand Scheme Of Things.

Up to the top. Hiking on the Appalachian Trail, I stopped to admire this giant. It’s the enduring legacy more than the pile of money.

Morning Pink. It’s all clouds today. I feel grateful, almost lucky to have received this gift of color at all. It’s not always what we’d have chosen, but each day provides.

Sky aflame. I often wonder if it is in any way symbolic of what’s happening or if it’s just a weather pattern that’s so dramatic. Yes?

Moonrise through the trees. This was one of the last shots I took of the big moon rising. The timing just worked out once again. The clouds made it seem a bit spooky, but I don’t fear these woods. Hours aslumber are cut shorter and shorter. It’s best we make the most of the time we have.

Hedgehog moss. As I walked a watershed forest, it was so nice to be inspired by the beauty great and small. The oaks were crowded so they grew up up up. In the dense shade, the moss finds cool reprieve and moisture for survival. A place for all things and things in between.

Moon through. It was a hot mess of jumbled blue dots flying around but with plenty of patience, more dots than I’d like, and a steady hand, a few good shots happened. Mosaics: building of the picture with many small pieces.

Moon on a wire. It came, it shone and still was shining when I awoke and stayed around longer than needed to take this shot this morning. The moon is powerful. There are many kinds of super powers. We have our preferences, but that doesn’t take away from any of the others.

Potomac burning through. The water is so low. Beaches are showing where they’re rarely seen. But, the flow will increase - this we know. It’s coming. Each day. Boulders rock the boat still but soon, there will be plenty of water. Patience.

Moon through Maple. There was so much light that even the darkness could not be easily be hidden. So evident that now is the time to cast light upon the dark, to have IT be in fear, that its time has come and that time is now.

Bent Moonlight. Looking out to see what’s working in the dark showed the moonbeams and the show went on from there. As the full moon comes more fully on, so does the size of her beams, making quick work of shadows and silhouettes.

Strange light. I was after the moonlight coming through this end window. I got it but so much more. I spent several minutes but the dark was as elusive as the light.

Summer’s harvest. As proof of the end of summer continues with a drop of thermometers, proof or survival keeps coming each day. It will not be shut down. It will show determination and beauty.

Half moon through the trees. It was a blustery day all day yesterday and though the wind continued into the night, it didn’t bowl me over as I sat outside delivering candy for the kiddies. Was I cold? Yes. A rarity. Poor planning on my part. A good time nonetheless.

Stick it. This came on the package I recently received - not from Amazon. It shows personality, is for a good cause, and adds happiness. As easily as change adds up to dollars, it’s important to be accountable for our change, too.

Autumnal cleanup. It’s around and around and around for hours. But it’s short, as is our time. Periodically, I look up, snap a few photos and enjoy the view that’s changing quickly.

Town evening light. Even where the darkness falls, light seems to penetrate and keep us from being too deep in the abyss, though sometimes, with enough clarity the darkness seems better than what we see.

Casting October lights. From the Jack-o’-lantern, through to the stringer then directly above on the face, to the random unknown spot in the field, to the stars above. Light is as much a mystery as it is a known quantity.

Unlikely angle. Taking a few looks upward yesterday while clearing a large cherry branch gives perspective on the grand scope of things.

Above the Summer Kitchen: movement. I knew I’d want to spend some time outside but I also knew not everything was copasetic inside. So I rushed. I moved - not the stars. You get what you get, except I always have backup.

Margarita daisy. As long as I’ve lived here I’ve had these daisies on the corner of my home. With their light pink hue, they brighten the days against the stone, in the respite of shade.

Off the porch. In full darkness, it’s not as dark as we think. There’s light and shadow. As we open our apertures we see more even if we don’t fully leave the comfort of our own darkness.

Reflection of what matters. “In the pits” isn’t necessary at the bottom if you think of the pits of racing. There, it’s where excellence reigns at a blistering pace to get things done; tires, fuel and whatnot. Pivot, adjust. Ungrip the wheel, if just for a few moments. Now we can refocus.

Windy angled zinnia. I considered flipping this image but just to be obstinate, I chose not to. See how easy it is to choose how we want to be? At all times we choose: our lives, our attitudes, our levels of tolerance, discomfort and passivity. Also, our aggression…

Unsurpassed blues. Each morning and every evening, I’m wrapping my mind around the color and beauty and magnificence that has little if nothing of my own influence. What, if anything did we achieve worth the pursuit? Will it last or is that tomorrow’s task?

Blurred crescent. This is just a sliver, but with an attempt to focus on something too far away, the image broadens in hope that something might get focused upon. It’s not bigger, or fuller or more powerful. This is NOT what’s before us. Don’t be fooled by the eye’s overcompensation.

Richness. Not a person in sight. How lovely. Unlimited potential. Also, lovely. Something is gonna change. How else would we get rid of the old, ineffective, tired and useless baggage in our lives? Unlimited potential.

Glow on the Summer Kitchen. Carving pumpkins can be great therapy, especially if you think about some other orange face and you make this one better, less scary, less ugly. Be careful with knives, but you’ve got to bring them to carve the head. I like to keep mine dangerously sharp.

Just more zinnias. I keep coming back to “just.” It’s a demeaning qualifier. It’s barely making the standard. It is enough to state the subject. It can stand alone.

Floor groove gone diagonal. Can you imagine if the basic understanding of knowledge was turned upside down? You know, like facts and science and truth?..

View from The Office. About halfway done with the job, I took a moment to view where I was. Though I wish it were never, I can’t, or shouldn’t complain about where I work. Surrounded in beauty - that’s the goal. We must look and see.

Down the pass. Rarely do I take this road as it’s narrow, rumply, and slow. To the best of my knowledge, there are only two gravel roads left in my county, and this is one. To be honest, it seems like I’ve been on this road more often than not.

Cloudy with moon. The symptoms set early. Denial hasn’t changed the reality of belief. Pour energy into the fight but come to the fight more clever than the beast. Animal instinct isn’t enough. Brains will prevail over brawny beasts.

Exposed moon through the same trees. The speck, a focus left out of prominence, versus on the right, where the lens is opened further to see more, shows our focus, not theirs.

Afternoon skies. Though it didn’t cool much, it felt cooler as I worked on a tractor, as the clouds shaded the field. I did everything I could to get that old son of a gun back to life. It wasn’t enough. I regrouped for the day so that my mind could figure it out. Nice office, though.

Subtly coming to her own. As the days cool, she continues to thrive, not slowing for the portal of death until that time comes, because that’s not living her purpose. Why prepare for the end instead of living our purpose?

The day before. Full Harvest Moon isn’t quite full. But it shines still. Don’t let anyone fool you. 29/30 is still mostly present and plenty powerful.

Striped zinnia. As I went deep into the garden, the wet, overgrown grass dampened my shoes, but not my spirit. The zinnias, how they keep giving, through the drought and heat and turmoil, unfolding a new petal until they start to drop.

Asparagus webs. The whole garden is overgrown. The spiders have been more productive than the gardener. She gave and now she is taking for her future, as is the spider.

Not your cousin’s moonshine. If the opportunity keeps coming, I’ll keep up my end of the bargain: engage with the moon as it keeps the darkness at bay for though the darkness seems to be slowly encapsulating, it is nothing… just the absence of light.

The Potomac River. On a perfect day to be outside, the low water is evident if you know what to compare it to. The water was moving slowly, but still dropping enough to make a soft roar where it dropped below rocks. Here, it’s accessible. Down river, jagged rocks will tear open the peaceful.

The power of Zin. New focus arrives for the freshly opening beauty. The decay is fading behind. A full life is what wrinkles portray.

Rare set. Driving towards home, the clouds and sun were just warming up. Crimson light held the mountains in silhouette. Then, the sun dropped, filling the sky with yellow before it turned with oranges and red. Then, it muted, just enough behind The Cabin, to ember upon the clouds’s glow.

Out this window. Even though much has been tossed, I’ve never looked out from this vantage point at night and certainly never taken the time to see. Instead of despair, perhaps a glimmer of hope might be found.

Zinnia Prime. Not just a pretty face. She’s still unfolding. As she does, she provides for the butterflies… and our eyes and spirit.

Sharing space. Walking past is easier and much quicker for some. But maybe, maybe we’re where we were meant to be.

Chalice returns. I keep falling for this shot right outside my front door. It’s so everything for me: light, shape, constant change, clouds, sky, contrast, trees, growth, darkness. That’s more than we can fathom.

Rainy day video #1. Just because we can’t see something doesn’t mean it’s not happening. The more we look beyond the limited, corporeal senses the more we understand what matters most.

Morning points of light. From the fungus that grows in my tree a few times a year, to the shine on the garage where a Model T once sat, to the driveway of a neighbor down the road. What catches your eye? I ponder this all day long and I to the evening.

Pretty glory. Yesterday, I wrote and deleted and wrote and deleted and edited and felt like a phony. Today, I just want to celebrate good, and beauty and love. THAT doesn’t need editing.