Autumn Musings

Bash Bish Falls State Park, MA

(I began this entry last weekend and couldn’t finish until this morning.)

I’m currently hiding from my friend’s cats.

Not because I don’t like them.

I’ve always had an affinity for these mysterious and worshipful beings. And they for me.

Cats will instinctively rub the length of their bodies around part of me. Even when I’ve only just met them.

They’ll nuzzle their head against my arms or chest. Plop right in my lap and dare me to move.

I’m thinking of a particular moment more than a decade ago at a friend’s house back in graduate school when the latter happened. And it’s not the only such occurrence.

They’ll see if I’ll feed them, or they’ll investigate whatever I’ve brought with me. Not necessarily just the foodstuff either.

Last night, I had one of my said friend Josh’s cats crooning deep within its soul within seconds of scratching behind their ears.

I was joking with Josh while we were out this AM distributing door knockers for upcoming local elections that I have animal magnetism.

Sadly, I’m also quite allergic to our feline sisters and brethren.

It’s annoying for me and everyone involved.

I’ve had a particularly bad reaction to the cats on this visit.

I’ve probably gone through half a box of tissues. My eyes have been so red and puffy that I didn’t attempt to put my contacts in today.

I think perhaps it’s a combination of a few things. In particular, I suspect that being on doxycycline may be aggravating my normally not-so-great symptoms.

Google thinks I may be on to something there.

Josh feels quite badly about it and has been going out of his way to minimize how much I am around the clowder.

I also knew this could be an issue before visiting, so we’ve kept the cats out of the attic, where I am currently ensconced while Josh takes care of more campaign related duties.

I managed to get some photography in early this month.

A few weekends ago I did an overnight at Burlingame State Park in southern Rhode Island and was treated to an unexpected, delicious misty sunrise.

I was in the Berkshires this past Friday afternoon through Sunday morning.

While there, I hit up Mt. Greylock, the highest elevation in Massachusetts, and Bash Bish Falls State Park on the border of The Bay State and New York.

I made these impromptu trips hoping to catch some peak autumn colors.

It’s not been an optimal year for leaf peeping in New England. The window for glimpsing the brightest foliage has been rather narrow due to very dry conditions.

Some people have absolutely captured bold and bright colors.

I would say that although it’s not been the best autumn in terms of dazzling colors, it’s also not been as bad as I was anticipating.

And I’ve made enough decent compositions despite conditions that it’s hard to choose one for this month’s blog post.

I’m going with one from the falls.

I did see the most vibrant colors out of the places I’ve visited there. But it’s not just about that.

Rather, that was the one place where I did not hurry myself and instead set up my shots with intention.

Resisting the impulse to move from one thing to the next has felt especially difficult of late.

I’m not just talking about photography here.

Some days it’s a real fight to not get swept away by the endless news cycle, the constant dopamine hits and waves of gloom if not outright despair I feel as I scroll past emotionally charged headlines and content.

I’m not suggesting we look away and pretend all the ugliness unfolding in real time isn’t happening.

Because it is, and we must bear witness.

The relentless onslaught of information we consume—not always by choice—also far exceeds what we limited beings can cope with.

I’ll end with these thoughts.

I was telling Josh that I’ve recently been questioning what exactly it is I am doing as a landscape photographer.

Am I just sharing scenes of the natural world?

What do I actually know about these places I visit?

What are the political sensibilities of the people whose businesses I am spending my money at when I grab a quick drive thru meal, book an overnight stay, and so on?

Am I, in essence, tacitly endorsing a value system that I wholly disagree with each time I press the shutter button?   

Josh countered that photography is intimately bound up with my identity.

I’ll leave some of the thornier, unresolved queries I have aside for now (and some of them are solvable; e.g., this man-made notion that anyone actually owns the land, as if the land gives a shit).

The point I do want to leave you with is one I’ve made before.

However much is going on around us and to us day in and day out, we must find it in ourselves to slow down.

I’d argue that slowing down, much like finding joy in what too often feels like a cruel and unforgiving world, is an act of resistance. A primal one even.

It seems a bit inane to wrap this up by saying, get out in nature and be more intentional about how and where you spend your time.

But yeah, do more of that. Especially because the powers that be don’t want us to get out in the world, feel joy, be inspired, or dare to hope.