Maple Leaves, Ottawa ON

Have I mentioned that I’m not a huge fan of the bus?

Maybe once or twice? OK.

On a trip home in late September, I had had all the fun I could stand. After watching two or three buses pass by for Every Other Route But Mine, I took the first bus out of downtown that was going to a stop about 15 minutes’ walk from our house. I intended to wait there for my connecting bus to show up.

I did.

But when it did, it was so full that the bus driver wouldn’t even open the doors.

So I stomped off home, walking through the linear park that winds through our area and deposits me on my street. It was, after all, a nice day.

It was also early fall, a time of year I never tire of, in Ottawa.  A time of year I never tire of Ottawa.  Walking that last leg home, rather than riding the bus, I collected maple leaves in various stages of deterioration.

I’m not sure what I think or how I feel about staged photos, but sometimes they’re fun.

And it was a nice day, after all.

Three maple leaves in three stages of death

 

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9 Comments

  1. Is it OK to cheat and quote myself from another blog reply, because it, too, is about the fading of glorious autumn? Maybe it’s about missed buses, too.
    “After a punishing drought this summer we have had a rich crop of perfect apples from our antique trees, trees falling down with age. Since we came in ’83 we’ve never seen such apples, free of blight or worm and rotund and juicy from the recent rains. Some said the maples would be pale from their ordeal, but they, too, have spread their towering scarlet, crimson, butter, and gold canopies with exceptional brilliance. May we take these surprises as tokens as the leaves fall? As we face dreaded winter we may hope that spring will find us as full of surprises — productive, generous with astonishing light and color.”

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