This scene caught my attention as my wife and I arrived in Berlin, Ohio, at her sister’s place. The white of the Amish homes and barns glowed in the Golden Hour light.
© Bruce Stambaugh 2024
Golden Hour in Berlin, Ohio
Month: September 2024
Enshrouded Mountain
Rain finally came to the Shenandoah Valley when summer turned to autumn. It was a pleasant and much-needed transition.
Folks in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley endured one of the hottest and dryest summers on record. We had so little rain that our yard wasn’t mown for nine weeks. Then came the autumnal equinox and downpour after downpour.
No one was complaining. The rain was a blessing, though a bit too late for most farmers to benefit.
We went from sunny, hot, and humid days to gloomy, wet ones. Clouds loaded with moisture that so often detoured around the parched valley in summer found the lovely valley to their liking. Day after day started and ended with rain. Occasional storms brought wind damage and large hail.
Most of all, the cloud decks were low, hiding the views in every direction. After a rain, fog banks sometimes rose from river valleys and enshrouded nearby mountains beneath the looming, nearly stationary rain clouds.
Though the scenes became regular, their eeriness remained. Fortunately, so did the rains.
© Bruce Stambaugh 2024
Summer’s Last View
My wife and I were enjoying a scrumptious brunch with friends of ours. The conversation was as delicious as the fare.
Not having been to this winery before, I was focused on the menu and the venue. Then I noticed the view.
Beyond the old farmhouse with its red brick chimney, the blooming crepe myrtle, and the leaves of the hardwoods waiting to transform into golds, russets, and bronze stood the stoic Massanutten Mountain range. It’s one of the shortest mountain ranges in the world, covering 50 miles from near Front Royal south to Harrisonburg, Virginia, in the Shenandoah Valley.
The scene gave me hope. It was an excellent way to bid summer adieu and envision a fall full of color and coolness.
© Bruce Stambaugh 2024
Signs of Autumn Abound
The signs of fall are everywhere in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley. Whether hiking in a park, walking around the neighborhood, or taking a country drive, hints of autumn’s imminent arrival catch people’s attention.
Impatient warm colors tint the once vibrant green of sugar maple leaves. Other maples blush reds on one branch and greens on the rest of the canopy. Scan hillside woodlots, and it’s clear autumn’s rapid approach has infringed on the once variety of hues of greens.
Some of the dulling and browning result from the severe summer drought. Rain has been sparse. Large and small trees continue to be stressed, some to the point of no return.
The wildflowers seem bedraggled, save for multiple stands of goldenrods waving in the wind. Still, blossoms persist despite the dryness and display their showy blooms.
The deep purple of wild morning glories contrasts beautifully with the ubiquitous goldenrod blooms. Different species of wildflowers display various versions of yellow only feet apart.
Sunsets come too soon. Even on cloudless days, the western horizon glows golden. Unfortunately, particles from wildfires hundreds of miles away, carried by the jetstreams, subdue the grateful human emotions.
The heat and dryness, not the season’s first frost, have stunted too many stands of cornstalks and singed their long, drooping leaves. Going consecutive weeks with little to no precipitation has that effect.
Insects also make their annual fall appearances. Caterpillars gorge on their host plants to prepare for the next phase of the metamorphosis. Praying mantis look for any opportunity to dine among the garden foliage.
The heavy dews of cool mornings reveal the stealthy spider webs with their glistening moisture. As the dew evaporates from the warming air, butterflies search for nector, powering up for their southern journies.
Scores of warbler species dressed in duller, non-breeding colors migrate to their southern haunts. Other species, including singers and shorebirds, also flee for more moderate climes.
It won’t be long until northern snowbirds, primarily the gray-haired versions, follow behind them in cram-packed cars and campers of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Warmer weather attracts all kinds of birds.
Of course, the turning of the leaves, the blooming wildflowers, the trimming of daylight, and cooler temperatures is as it should be. Fall is officially around the corner. The autumnal equinox is Sunday, September 22, at 8:47 a.m. EDT.
© Bruce Stambaugh 2024
September’s First Week in Photos
The first week of September brought a variety of photographic opportunities and emotions. I’ll let the week’s activities play out in the photos and captions.
Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
© Bruce Stambaugh 2024
The Male Ego vs. Common Sense
I sat beneath a spreading canopy of an ornamental tree at my favorite cafe, waiting for my celebratory lunch. It was my reward for a spontaneous decision I wished I hadn’t made.
Early in the late August morning coolness, I had already walked my usual mile in our suburban neighborhood. The humidity neutralized the refreshing temperature.
The forecast showed heavy rain off and on for the next three days. As I walked, I weighed my options. Should I mow our yard or not? The grass was already high, and the rain would only allow it to grow thicker and higher.
Our granddaughter, who usually mows for us, was in school. Plus, I needed more time to request the on-call lawn service, so I was the only option. The truth is that I loved to mow the yard. I enjoy the exercise and the challenge of mowing the grass in different directions each time, creating various patterns in the yard.
Back home, I confidently announced my decision to my wife.
“Are you sure?” she wisely asked with clear doubt and a contorted look. She knew the consequences that I ignored.
I gassed up the mower and charged onto the lawn as my wife left for the morning. It was 68 degrees Fahrenheit when I started and 86 degrees when I finished.
The first 20 minutes went well. I made several passes around the perimeter of our third of an acre and got halfway through the front yard when the reality of why others mow our lawn kicked in.
I’m allergic to grass. Despite my nose running like a baby’s, I followed my male ego’s insistence. I soldiered on as best I could while my wife’s question rattled in my numbed brain. Soon, however, the physical reactions forced this stubborn septuagenarian to take an extra-long break. I needed to rest and hydrate. Plus, I used half a box of facial tissues.
Nevertheless, I pressed on as the temperature spiked and the humidity intensified. With the front yard finished, I retreated to the garage’s shelter to repeat my previous routine: sit, drink, towel away the sweat, and repeatedly blow my nose.
In short, I was miserable and exhausted but still determined to finish the job. My stubborn male ego spurred my misguided desire to do so. Fortunately, with a few more rounds, I completed the mowing. I took another break before cleaning up the mower and blowing off the driveway, sidewalk, and patio. What should have taken an hour turned into two.
I was ecstatic to be finished despite my stupidity. I cleaned up and basked in the comfort of air conditioning.
As the late morning transitioned into the afternoon, I headed to the downtown cafe I loved. I treated myself to my favorite lunchtime dish: a gluten-free waffle with fresh fruit and sweet tea in the dappled shade of that cityscape tree. The delicious food vindicated my miserable morning. At least, that’s what I rationalized.
I spent the afternoon relaxing in a lounge chair in the shade of the back porch. I promptly fell asleep despite the heat, which now had reached 96 degrees. An hour later, I awoke to a new reality. Despite the ongoing drought, the National Weather Service posted a flood watch for northern Virginia. Hopefully, rain was on the way.
The hazy, clear blue sky filled with high cirrus clouds. Soon, a brisk wind sailed lower, more menacing cumulous clouds overhead.
A blessed, gentle rain began by early evening but quickly became a downpour. Lightning flashed in every direction, with some strikes too close for comfort. Ear-splitting booms instantly followed bright bolts.
The evening cooled once the storm front passed, and I settled in for a good night’s sleep, exhausted but happy for the rain and the manicured yard. I confessed my evident male ego stubbornness to my compassionate wife, laughed at my foolishness, and fell into a contented, deep sleep.
In his iconic 1909 craft book “Write It Right,” Ambrose Bierce stated that “good writing” is “clear thinking made visible.” My actions proved that muddled reasoning is just as evident.
© Bruce Stambaugh 2024
September’s First Sunset
We had another quenching and satisfying rainstorm yesterday afternoon and evening. After the front had passed, I checked the rain gauge in the backyard. The setting sun illuminated the backside of the storm clouds racing east. A brilliant orange and a bright but stubby rainbow caught my eye.
I looked to the west and discovered a striated sky of tangerine streaks. I grabbed my camera and headed for a nearby pasture that afforded a better view to the west before the colors faded.
Though not the most colorful of my photos, I liked this scene and all its rich ingredients: the farm lane with remnants of the rain’s runoff, the silhouetted trees, Mole Hill, an ancient local landmark, and the Allegheny Mountains beyond.
September’s first sunset highlighted it all.
© Bruce Stambaugh 2024
Roadkill Crossing 
You must be logged in to post a comment.