Which is sort of a play on words. Obvious, yes - but who wouldn't want to freeze time every now and then? That's why many of us take photos: to capture a moment, a thought, a sight, before relentless time whisks it away forever.
I wish I could freeze time in another way right now. I've been crocheting my wrists off to meet a November deadline and I could sorely use some extra commitment-free days. Anybody know how to temporarily stop the clock?
I have been freezing actual thyme - also parsley, basil, and chives - because October is Freezing Time in Wisconsin.
The first hard frost has finally come, killing off any lingering garden hopes. Though it happens every year, it's always a sad event. You walk outside one morning and find blackened, shrivelled leaves and flowers where all before was colour and life. But the loss is easier to bear when you've stored away bags of herbs in the freezer - sprinkles of Summer for a winter's worth of eggs and potatoes, pizza and soup.
Today I went for a bike ride - the first in two weeks. A frantic work schedule combined with less-than-perfect weather, plus a sore shoulder, have been keeping me indoors, but the day was too beautiful to waste.
It's been a spotty Autumn so far. The trees have been changing reluctantly and out of order, with oaks turning red and russet while maples are still half green, and many of the the walnut trees losing their leaves before others have even begun to change. Some of the birch and aspen have refused to turn anything but brown before dropping sullen leaves to the ground. (Perhaps they're still feeling the effects of the 2012 drought?)
But the frost which killed the garden has finally kicked the fall colour into high gear. Even a spotty Autumn has its beauties.
It's a scarlet-and-blue-and-gold day, an October-poster day of sunny skies and cool breezes. Autumn winds have already stripped the leaves from many trees, opening glimpses into further layers of colour beyond:
Now that frost has ended the 2015 Wildflower Count, my eyes are free to look up rather than down. Here's the upward view: oak trees glowing russet and red and bronze against an impossibly blue sky:
And the sideways view:
A faint haze in the air renders this pine forest a place of mystery and soft enchantment:
Sandhill cranes have been gathering for weeks to discuss their winter travel plans; I pass at least a hundred of them, scattered in dozens over this and neighbouring fields:
An oaky avenue of colour:
A small tree with rosy leaves leans affectionately against its much taller neighbour:
I don't know what type of tree it is, but the leaves are beautiful:
Red oak under a stunning October sky, all gloriously reflected in the silvery marsh beneath:
One more red oak photo, this time from below, with the sun shining through the leaves:
What colour would you call them? Scarlet? Crimson? Vermilion? Breathtaking?
This is the beauty that reconciles us to the year's dying; these are the images we store up in our minds to carry us through the long white months ahead.
A good ride on a colour-filled day.
P.S. Almost forgot the thyme! :)
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