A short autumnal commute

Our Internet connection problem turned out the be the neighborhood’s connection problem, but they’ve jury-rigged a solution until they can run some underground cable.

We’re back, baby!

In celebration, find below the first post I’ve uploaded at home since Sunday—ironically, it’s shorter and more slapdash than the ones I worked on offline . . . But I’m sure that’s just a coincidence . . .


The fluctuating weather is confusing the trees around here.  

A few have already burst into their autumn plumage, but a lot of them are holding onto their chlorophyll with grim determination because temps hit over 90F just three days ago.  Our neighbor’s tree embraced nudism last week—or it sneezed suddenly, we’re not sure—shedding its leaves in a yellow puddle at its roots, while the oak in our back yard is still cheerfully pelting us with its progeny.*

But interesting colors are starting to pop up along our daily commute, so I handed Jane the camera and told her to record some of them for posterity.

“You mean the blog?” she asked.

Um, yeah.

I weeded out the blurs (“Mom, stop the car!”  “Honey, I’m on the highway!“) and the point-blank self-portraits she uses for warm-ups,** but the rest are pretty good for an eight-year old aiming a cheapo digital camera through the back window of a Honda—and much better than her mother could do stock still with an expensive lens:


I think these next three work well as a series—they’re a little blurry, maybe, but I like the composition. 

 Then again, I’m biased in favor of the photographer.

(I think the shadow in the right lower corner up there is us)



  This last tree is right near our house, and on the way home, the setting sun makes the golden leaves glow.  Unfortunately, the camera wasn’t quite up to the task, and I don’t have Photoshop.  But it’s still pretty.


What does your neck of the woods look like right now?


*I swear I saw it bean (or do I mean acorn?) a squirrel the other day.  The squirrel leapt three feet in the air and ran for its life.

 . . . .