Autumn’s here folks!

Lorenzo Duran and BAFTA awards

Years ago I used to live in the UK and was an annual member of the National Trust. As a subscriber I got to visit all manner of Manor Houses (sorry – couldn’t help myself). Amongst them was Snowshill Manor – about which I wrote in an earlier post. (If you’re interested, I’ll leave that as an exercise in googling.) One of the bewildering collections there was a small group of scrimshaw carvings by sailors and Napoleonic prisoners. In bone and ivory. Also some very fine oriental cricket cages. All were examples of very fine handiwork. Good ol’ StumbleUpon led me to this page today. A similar level of detail… but on leaves!! Lorenzo Duran – Designaside.com (It’s in Italian, but most browsers will translate it for you if you feel the need).

On a very tenuously connected thread…

When I was a Scout Leader in the UK, one of my young charges went by the name of Diarmid Scrimshaw. Still does actually – why change such a great name? It’s pronounced “Dermott” BTW, in case you were wondering. (I won’t share here what his rather cruel nickname at the time was – boys will be boys!) He was a bit smarter than the average, and I took a shine to him because he was a little bit out of phase with the rather bland world around him in Stony Stratford.

He used to ride a unicycle, just as a random example. To and from Scout meetings. While juggling live cats and chainsaws. OK, not actually, but the unicycle was real enough. I vaguely recall he was a dab hand with cards tricks too, and even more vaguely recall fire eating, but that might just be a false memory. A born performer, nevertheless.

I once bumped into him in a bar at the local cinema complex (he was still very much under drinking age) and he was dressed something like the Blues Brothers. It turned out he was there to play trombone with a band going by the name of The Blues Collective. I have a CD of their’s… not bad at all (“Hot Hits – Volume 1″… not at all pretentious!). Not unlike the sound of the band in The Commitments actually. Plainly this young man would go far. Here’s the opening track “Syrup” about a French prostitute.

Turns out he did go far after all. He just won a BAFTA award as the producer of “The Tyrannosaur“!! Read his interview here.

He just went up even further in my esteem as I learn on IMDB that he produced the Arctic Monkeys at the Apollo!

Guru: Diarmid Scrimshaw: now appearing on TWO wheels!

Diarmid on the right with Paddy Considine

That time of year again…

Autumn is an odd time of year for me.

The scents can be warm and heady – spices, mulled wine, bonfires, burning leaves, weed (this is BC and there’s a lot of teenager-infested parks around here! 🙂 )

The colours are stunning of course. Back in the UK they were predominantly yellow/brown, but here the large-leafed North American oaks and of course the many maple varieties bring a wider gamut including some astounding reds and peach/orange hues.

I sometimes still feel unaccountably melancholy, and enjoy time alone, walking in the rain, splashing in puddles, and thinking my thoughts without the judgement or influence of others.

Yesterday treated us to steady rain – oh and a Tsunami warning late in the evening (why should the East Coast have all the drama?) I particularly enjoy steady rain. I am well equipped for it, being originally from Yorkshire, and most people are far more sensible and stay indoors. This leaves the entire neighbourhood exclusively to me and my camera. The hood on my waterproof is ample to protect my camera with its 50mm lens, and off we go…

A late bloomer – the rain on the velvety petals was gorgeous

The deep rich green of the rose leaf was in contrast to the more typical waning tree leaves.

This colour scheme was familiar from my UK youth. Yellows and more typically browns. I could feel the influences of bonfire nights of my youth coursing through my veins.

Dead, but not yet limp. This leaf wasn’t going down without a fight.

I love this perfect time. The leaves have left their tree, but not been overcome by molds and fungi and turned back to the soil.

I love a nicely turned set of hips. These roses were far more prepared for autumn than the one by my driveway.

This large-leafed oak had a lovely orange/peach tone. I tried to get the sun shining through its semi-transparency.

The maple reds leave me speechless – no mean feat!

These oak leaves are waiting for just the right moment for their swan dive to the ground.

These ducks obviously thought I came bearing bread. I felt a little guilty at the energy they were expending for no ultimate reward. It’s getting colder, and though our little ponds have much natural food for them, it’s a tough time of year for wildlife. Nature will whittle away the less able.

The underneath of the maples had a slightly more subtle colour scheme

This large leaf had been impaled on the nearby hedge. It almost looked like it had been crucified.

This maple variety had very dark, almost black leaves. Notice though that it is generating seeds in order to start the cycle all over.

This puddle reflected the nearby tower block. Built a few years ago, it offers spectacular views of Semiahmoo Bay… by blocking it from the people that used to have the view!

Japanese maple bring a more fractal design to the basic maple leaf shape. More decorative, but the same familiar red.

I hope my own death is similar. Standing out from the general. A bit different. Ignored by most passers by, but interesting to the more inquisitive.

A uniform carpet of leaves. Their job now complete for the community they were part of, it’s time to let go. They offer themselves as nutrient to the community they were once part of, so that others may take their place in due course, and build on their success.

Each leaf goes at its own pace. the same as its neighbours, but somehow unique too.

The shades and colours make me feel very small. The colours are caused by chemistry and biology. Unlike flowers that are coloured to attract insects and animals, the decay and release of dead leaves serves no attractive purpose for survival… yet is as beautiful in its own way to the human eye.

Another maple, close to the park exit, preparing to shed both seeds, and dead leaves to help nourish and protect them through the coming winter.

Compared to the natural beauty of the autumn trees, the man-made elements of the park are drab and monochrome. The only points of interest are in the reflections in the puddles… caused by nature.

On the way TO the park, I had smiled to kick my way through a deep carpet of leaves. It reminded me of other autumns where even urban leaves can cause smiles. On the way BACK, they were missing! The house owner had cleared them away, leaving only a few small leaves to mark their passing.

The house owner’s flower beds echoes the depth and colour of the pavement leaves I was hoping to photograph on the way back.

This maple was stretching itself and offering a more subtle array of red/oranges than the usual bright red.

Freshly caught. This one had met with an interruption on its way to the ground. Caught in the net of the underlying hedge, it would rest midway between tree and Earth.

The street that intersects our crescent is lined with maples. It is hard to accurately capture the vibrancy of the street when the leaves decide – as if overnight – that it’s time to give their annual show.

Each tree is on fire with small red leaves. Each one representing the human condition. They will fall, offering themselves to a passing eye. Saying “pick me, pick me!” Similar but not quite the same as all the others. Many children and adults will walk past or over them without noticing any at all. A few people may notice, but walk by. One or two may stop, think, select. Just one. A special one. The leaf will smile.

It’s hard to be sad on a wet cold day, when you are shown such amazing things.

Each one is just perfect for someone. But will that someone notice? Will they travel this way today?

It was wet and cold, but freshly fallen leaves seem so much alive with hope still.

Look carefully. One of the leaves is just for you. Perfect in only a way you can see. Because it was chosen just for you.

When the rain comes…

I love the rain.

It brings a different mood to Vancouver. One that suits my natural mood. I like the toning down of colours. Of sound. Of people even.

I love that the trees here go red at the same time.

I subscribe to The Scout, Vancouver’s online magazine. Today they had this photo, and I thought I’d share. It manages to capture the essence of the rain but without it being a dreary or miserable experience.

Magic with light.

TEA & TWO SLICES: On Hating Bieber And The World’s 4th Least Stylish Neighborhood : Scout Magazine.