CAMPBELL RIVER, B.C. in OCTOBER

"It looked like the world was covered in a cobbler crust of brown sugar and cinnamon..."-Sarah Addison Allen

The forest in the valley before Mt. Washington range, from my front window.

Yum Yum, one of the urban deer who lives in the green belt and regularly sleeps in the back yard after eating a good deal of leaves and fallen apples.

"...Nature has been saving up all year for its grand finale..."

-Lauren DeStefano

Dogwood Hill leading into downtown, with Quadra Island in the distance.

In the meantime, Yum Yum is still sleeping on the back yard hill...zzzzzzzzzz

On the edge of town, the bridge that reaches over the Campbell river...

"Listen! The wind is rising...

...and the air is wild with leaves,

we have had our summer evenings...

...now for October eves!" -Humbert Wolfe

Heading down the main street of Dogwood, leading to Dogwood Hill....

"Is this not a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I love, that makes life and nature harmonize...

...the trees are putting on the hectic or the pallid hues of decay and begin to strew on the ground..."-George Eliot

Oh look, Yum Yum has woken up from his 6 hour nap. He's eating leftover apples that fell from the compost basin....Mr. Spencer at the window with Rona shadowing him. 

....and Little Marshmallow on his new perch, looking for the older cats. Yum Yum seems to like the cats and the cats....well, I wonder if they think the deer is just a VERY BIG cat.

At the end of Dogwood Road, Quadra Island Ferry, ready for passengers.

The actual Campbell River ....

   "And I rose in rainy autumn, and walked abroad in a shower of all my days." -Dylan Thomas

Photographs 2026

                                                              Towhee  by the fence

END of SEPTEMBER...

SEPTEMBER MIDNIGHT by Sara Teasdale (1889-1933) published in 1914

Lyric night of the lingering Indian summer,

Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing,

Never a bird but the passionless chant of insects, 

Ceaseless, insistent.

The grasshopper's horn, and far off, high in the maples

The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence

Under a moon waning and worn and broken,

Tired with summer.

Let me remember you, voices of little insects

Weeds in the moonlight, fields that are tangled with asters,

Let me remember you, soon will the winter be on us

Snow-hushed and heartless.

Over my soul murmur your mute benediction

While I gaze, oh fields that rest after harvest,

As those who part ...

look long in the eyes they lean to,

Lest they forget them...

Photographs 2026 "September Midnight" is in the public domain, published in 1914

 

STELLAR JAYS return at SUNSET...

AUTUMN SUNSET by Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862) (excerpts)

The sun sets on some retired meadow, where no house is visible, with all the glory and splendour...

where there are solitary wings gilded by it, or some brook in the midst of the marsh...

just beginning to meander, winding slowly round a decaying stump.

We walked in so pure and bright a light, gilding the withered grass and leaves,

so softly and serenely bright...

I had never bathed in such a golden flood, without a ripple or a murmur to it.

Every wood and rising ground gleamed like a boundary of Elysium,

and the sun on our backs seemed like a gentle herdsman...

...driving us home at evening.

So we saunter toward the Holy Land,

one day the sun shall shine more brightly...

...shall perchance shine into our minds and hearts,

and light up our whole lives,

a great awakening light,

as warm and serene... 

and golden...

.... in autumn.

Photographs 2026