Fall has to be my favorite season, with Mother Nature putting on her annual fireworks display. Or, as I like to say, God’s eye candy.
Here are some of my favorite photos, which I’ve snapped over the past several fall seasons.
The view from my kitchen window in the late afternoon for much of the fall season.
The trees in our neighborhood compete with each other for sheer outrageousness.
Love the flowers that hang in there and still bloom, even after the first frost, or look like dried flowers in a flower arrangement.
Roses actually seem to bloom prettier with a chill in the air. These can be found in the rose garden behind our church.
Here’s the street that runs past our house.
Each street presents its own fireworks display.
And we have an amazing park a few blocks away.
With temperatures in the 60s and 70s into mid November this year, except for a cold spell that lasted a couple days earlier this week, there’s no reason not to get out from behind my computer, go for a walk, gawk at God’s handiwork and engage in some serious nature prayer.
This time of year, our trees are loaded with blossoms and the whole yard, front and back, is awash in lovely spring colors — as if singing a pastel hallelujah.
The trees pictured here, from top to bottom, are crabapple, black cherry, pink and white dogwood, pear, redbud, and a small tree we call “the clubhouse” because dozens of little brown birds gather in its branches for their own choir practice.
When the weather turns cold, I’m usually tempted to stay inside and hibernate. Alas, God creates such breathtaking beauty with snow (and even ice!) that I’ve been richly rewarded whenever I bring my camera and immerse myself in the great outdoors instead. Here are some of my favorite winter scenes that I’ve managed to capture over the years.
One of my favorite rituals for more than a quarter century has been morning meditation. If nice weather beckons, I may stroll around my backyard. Or I may settle in my recliner in front of the fireplace with a cup of coffee or tea by my side while observing nature through our picture window. Either way, I’ve got plenty of morning meditation partners to inspire me, regardless of the season.
What’s there to do on a sunny 70-degree day in November, besides grab a camera and go to the park?
While a hard freeze wilted all the flowers about a week ago, the leaves have only gotten more vibrant and colorful. The prairie grasses and hydrangea blossoms remain pretty, even as they look more like the dried flowers one would put in a centerpiece. Here in central Illinois, many of the ducks and geese stick around for the winter.
In my last post, I wrote that I’ve come to consider photography as a form of prayer, because of the way it encourages appreciation for God’s creation. This idea was first suggested to me by Howard Zehr, author of The Little Book of Contemplative Photography.
Zehr offers several exercises in which he encourages us to put aside any specific goals we might have for a photo session and simply pay attention to what presents itself. I really like that approach. One thing my own photo sessions have taught me is to pay attention. To notice.
Most of my best photos over the years have not been the carefully choreographed panoramic views of tourist attractions taken on vacations or the posed “grip-and-grin” shots taken at family gatherings. Instead, unexpected photo opportunities presented themselves and beckoned me to pay attention or miss out. I like to think of them as “God’s photo opportunities.”
Below are a dozen of my favorite examples.
While on vacation in Ireland, Pete and I trained our cameras on stunning emerald-green scenery, entire fields of furze, notable landmarks and castles galore. I almost failed to notice the pigeons populating the sidewalks of Dublin. This one seemed to say, “Hey, look at me!”
Likewise, Jerusalem offered a gazillion holy sites for everyone to dutifully photograph for the folks back home. But how could one possibly ignore His Majesty, the Cat? People in that part of the world seemed to like their cats, by the way. As we toured the Holy Land, we spotted several cat colonies among the tourist attractions, and the feral kitties always appeared healthy and well-fed.
Of course, some of God’s best photo opportunities have landed right in our own backyard. Small mammals may not be so glad to see this guy, but Pete and I think our resident hawk is magnificent! Pete likes to joke that we’ve provided a nice backyard deli for him by attracting all the other critters. I don’t like to think about that part. I just notice – and admire – the hawk.
In a project I like to think of as “God’s work, our hands,” Pete and I have been growing milkweed in our backyard for several years in an effort to protect the dwindling monarch butterfly population. It took nearly two years for the monarchs to find our plants, and we were beginning to wonder if they would ever show up. Then finally one day, I was SO excited to notice this little guy.
This busy little bee was so absorbed sipping nectar from one of my milkweed plants, he didn’t even notice me – which gave my camera ample opportunity to notice him and zoom in before he flitted to the next flower. He looked so cute and fuzzy that part of me wanted to reach out and pet him gently with my finger like one would do with a furry caterpillar, but the much-wiser part of me was content to admire him from a distance with my camera lens while he did God’s work of feeding the world by keeping everything pollinated.
Is this dragonfly magnificent or not?? I spotted him while walking through an outdoor labyrinth at Jubilee Farm – a little piece of Eden established by our community’s Dominican Sisters as a center for ecology and spirituality. Fortunately the labyrinth’s design invited me to spend as much time looking down as looking around, and I had my camera with me to capture this little beauty.
I used to get so frustrated with the squirrels in our backyard because they wouldn’t stay out of the bird feeders, and I tried everything I could think of to thwart the furry little trespassers. Finally I decided to enjoy the squirrels instead of fighting them. After all, I’m pretty sure our bushy-tailed buddies never got the memo that all the enticing delicacies were for birds and not for them. So these days I entertain myself by taking full advantage whenever God presents them to me for a photo opportunity.
We’ve traded in our neatly manicured lawn for a wildflower meadow since we stopped using chemicals of any kind in our yard. (Don’t worry, we do mow the lawn. But we don’t try to keep out the “weeds.”) Now the grass is interspersed with violets, white clover, dandelions and assorted small wildflowers that provide both nectar and pollen for our pollinators. This cute chipmunk inserted himself into the middle of things while I was photographing the wildflowers, and seemed to like our new lawn as much as the bees and butterflies do.
We all know how dark and depressing things can seem in the middle of winter. But one morning, in the midst of a bleak midwinter backyard scene, I spotted this brilliant flash of red.
I just love snowdrops! As soon as I notice these popping up out of the ground, I know that a long hard winter is coming to an end and spring is on its way.
For years, a gorgeous Rose of Sharon bush sat on the front corner of our house. From midsummer until the first frost, this lovely little show-off greeted me with hundreds of blossoms each time I pulled into the driveway. Its abundant profusion of blooms seemed to shout, “Glory to God!” The bees and the hummingbirds loved it. Then, a couple of years ago, an unusually harsh winter killed it. I’m so glad I was inspired the previous fall to pause my busy schedule long enough to take these photos of the bush and of a single perfect Rose of Sharon blossom.
When it comes to paying attention, my little Champie Cat reminds me to do this constantly. His whole personality seems to call out, “Notice me! Notice me!” And my camera loves him almost as much as I do. But he doesn’t stay in one place for long, so I need to be quick. He loves to turn pillows into cat beds and this is one of my all-time favorite photos – I like to call it “the Prince and the Pea.”
One thing I’ve learned about God’s photo opportunities is that – unlike tourist attractions or neatly lined-up groups of people – none of them are “posed.” They just appear, often when least expected – photobombing a scenic view of Jerusalem or swooping into my backyard or howling at me from the bedroom to get my attention. To capture them, I must pull myself away from my screens and my busy schedule long enough to notice. Or risk missing out.
Note: I’m taking a short break from writing in July to focus on some pressing personal priorities, so for this month, I’m reposting some of my favorite blog pieces from earlier days when I only had a few people following my blog. This was first posted in September 2020.
Can photography be a form of prayer? Howard Zehr, author of The Little Book of Contemplative Photography, thinks so.
Photography can serve as a medium for reflection and meditation, and encourages mindfulness, he says. “By slowing down to reflect and meditate, by heightening our visual awareness and our imaginations, by cultivating receptivity and a more holistic way of knowing, we can renew ourselves while gaining new insights into ourselves, the creation, and the Creator.”
Some photographic subjects present themselves in an obvious way. An amazing sunrise practically screams, “Quick! Grab your camera.”
As do the brilliant fall colors in this park scene.
However, mindfulness is also about “being aware of and appreciating the ordinary, of being open to beauty and insights in the commonplace,” Zehr says.
For example, who knew that chives going to seed could be so pretty?
“We often overlook things that we experience as ordinary or everyday,” Zehr says. “We tend to make preconceived judgments about what is worth looking at or photographing, valuing the ‘picturesque’ or ‘spectacular’ and failing to recognize many of the visual possibilities around us.”
How about a coneflower blossom?
Throughout his little book, Zehr gives us exercises designed to increase our awareness of the visual richness of ordinary objects and scenes. One exercise: Set out to photograph without a specific subject in mind, remaining open to whatever seems to present itself.
Like a leaf that has floated to the ground.
A pair of acorns.
Or a single perfect rose.
“To me, photography is an art of observation. It’s about finding something interesting in an ordinary place,” Zehr says. “I’ve found it has little to do with the things you see and everything to do with the way you see them.”
Like bright red berries against a deep blue sky.
Or a starkly bare tree with a cloudy sky shortly before sunset serving as a backdrop.
“Ordinary things, when really seen, make extraordinary photos,” Zehr says. “Such photos seem to make themselves. They seem like presents that were given.”
I snapped this photo of icicles dripping from a twig on a bush next to my porch.
These fall leaves still flashed their brilliant colors as they peeked out from under a very early snowfall.
“One must always take photographs with the greatest respect for the subject and for oneself,” Zehr says.
Of course, one can’t help but respect this goose walking straight toward me in the park, who just begged to be noticed … and photographed.
“A contemplative approach to photography is an expression of wonder grounded in respect and humility,” he says. “As such, it calls us to live in right relationship with our Creator, the creation, and our fellow human beings.”
An attitude of wonder “requires that we look anew at the familiar, that we stop taking the world around us for granted,” he adds. “An attitude of wonder is essential if we are truly to experience the creation and the Creator.”
Note: I’m taking a short break from writing in July to focus on some pressing personal priorities, so for this month, I will re-post some of my favorite blog pieces from earlier days when I only had a few people following my blog. This was first posted in June 2019.
Martin Luther is said to have observed, “God writes the gospel not in the Bible alone, but on trees and flowers and clouds and stars.”
Tertullian is quoted by Galileo (link HERE) as saying, “We conclude that God is known first through Nature, and then again, more particularly, by doctrine; by Nature in His works, and by doctrine in His revealed word.”
In other words, one can think of nature as God’s “other book.”
Regardless of the weather, I like to start my day by feeding the birds (and squirrels) while my morning coffee brews. During the growing season I tend several veggie, herb and flower beds. On warm sunny days, I take walks along an amazing tree-lined bike trail that runs beside a creek near our house. Sometimes I grab my camera and visit a neighborhood park.
Whether I’m feeding the critters, admiring the flowers in our backyard, snapping photos of flora and fauna at the park or strolling along the bike path, experiencing God’s creation with all my senses ranks as one of my favorite activities. Not to mention one of my most effective forms of relaxation and stress relief. (It sure beats arguing with complete strangers about politics on Facebook.)
Immersing myself in nature’s majesty continually reminds me there is an ultimate Creator. As I’ve said before, I find it almost impossible to deny God’s existence when I’m outdoors with the evidence all around me. So, to ward off those nagging doubts that surface from time to time, I try to get outside as much as possible and engage in what has become my most potent form of prayer: Nature prayer.
According to the Rev. James Martin, a Jesuit priest, author and editor-at-large of America magazine (link HERE), nature prayer is simply being “attentive to the presence of God in nature.”
For me, this form of prayer doesn’t even necessarily need words. Just looking at the vibrant colors of spring blossoms and fall leaves. Listening to birds singing and cicadas humming. Drinking in the scent of lilacs. Feeling a gentle breeze against my face. Tasting the sweetness of a vine-ripened strawberry.
I’m aware some Christians eye nature prayer with suspicion. Isn’t it too “New Agey?” Too “pagan?” Aren’t we worshipping creation instead of the Creator? Resistance to nature prayer has always baffled me, frankly, because the Bible itself is chock full of passages that extole nature and invite us to immerse ourselves in it, appreciate it and learn from it.
Psalm 19:1 says, “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.”
Luke 12:27 says, “Consider the lilies, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these.”
Being in nature not only brings us close to God, but can restore us physically and spiritually. The opening verses of the 23rd Psalm affirm, “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul.”
Psalm 104:24 exclaims, “O Lord, how manifold are your works! In wisdom you have made them all; the earth is full of your creatures.” In fact, Psalm 104 in its entirety presents one long ode to the natural world – mountains that smoke, melodious birds, wine that gladdens the heart, trees and streams that protect and feed wildlife of all kinds.
Even Jesus found nature conducive to prayer and meditation. After a long day of healing, teaching and preaching to crowds, “he withdrew himself into the wilderness and prayed,” says Luke 5:16.
For those interested in pursuing nature prayer from a Christian perspective, the Web site Busted Halo (link HERE) offers suggestions for an “outdoor retreat.” Designed to “deepen our relationship with God and nature,” this retreat has three parts, each involving prayer and reflection – seeing God, listening to God, and breathing in God. To access the retreat guide, click HERE.
As I engage in nature prayer, I sense God speaking to me every bit as directly as God speaks to me while I’m in church or reading the Bible.
When I watch a brilliant sunset dance along the tops of rioting fall leaves, I sense that God loves beauty.
When I watch a hummingbird flit from blossom to blossom sipping nectar while its tiny wings flap 70 times per second, I sense that God wants to inspire awe.
When I observe the more than three dozen varieties of flowers just in my own backyard, I sense that God prefers diversity.
When jonquils poke up through snow, I sense that God encourages us to feel hope. No matter how cold, dark and bleak life may seem, spring will come eventually.
Most importantly, when I’m immersing myself in nature, I understand at the deepest level that we are meant to appreciate and care for God’s creation. Because nature is part of God’s creation and a gift to us, we have an obligation to protect and preserve it.
For several summer seasons, one of my favorite meditation activities has been walking through my backyard and gazing upon God’s handiwork.
This year we had extensive landscaping work done in the spring. I planted lots of native perennials, as well as an abundance of annuals. I’ve found gardening to be therapeutic, and the yard is looking beautiful!
So, as the summer draws to a close, I thought I’d share some photos.
What I love about astilbe is its outrageous showiness. Those plumes! I like to think of them as God showing off…
I’ve been slowly but surely adding native plants to my beds. Not only do they attract pollinators, but once they get established, they require next to no watering or other care, since they’re suited to our local climate. Among my favorites are purple coneflowers and black-eyed susans.
Besides being wonderfully showy, the bee balm that grows along the south side of our house attracts hummingbirds. I just love those tiny creatures! I still haven’t gotten my camera to focus fast enough to catch one flitting from blossom to blossom, but I’m working on it.
Our resident rabbits love the white clover that covers our lawn. And they don’t have to worry about ingesting chemicals along with the yummy clover flowers. Our lawn has been chemical-free for as long as we’ve lived here.
Some welcome visitors have been gorging on our milkweed. I planted lots of it this year, so there’s enough to feed some very hungry caterpillars, along with the bees and butterflies. Since both the monarch and bee populations are dwindling, I’ve encouraged everyone I know to let this “weed” grow in their yards.
While not considered native flowers, my day lilies are so easy to grow and come in so many pretty colors that I now have lots and LOTS of them scattered around both my back and front yards. The good news is, they aren’t invasive, so it’s safe for me to plant them anywhere.
I like to scatter a few annuals throughout my flower beds, so that something is always blooming from mid-spring until frost. Petunias, begonias and lantana are among my favorites.
I have always gotten a kick out of the way I can make my hydrangeas change color just by pouring some leftover coffee around the base of the bush. These blooms started out blue, but some have turned pink after I started the coffee treatment.
What is even prettier (and tastier!) than these blossoms? The vine-ripened tomatoes I’ve just now begun to harvest! And the cayenne pepper will be yummy cooked with a pot of greens.
We also planted a Rose of Sharon tree in memory of our beautiful Olaf da Vinci.
We wanted something with blossoms as flamboyant as our sweet kitty’s personality, and I think we found the perfect little tree to honor him. From mid-summer until frost the Rose of Sharon puts forth an abundance of showy white blossoms with red centers.
We hadn’t gotten much snow at all for most of this winter. Just a dusting or two. But the month of February made up for lost time – two major snowstorms just a few days apart.
What I really love, in addition to the beautiful scenery, are those hardy wildlife friends who stick around for the winter rather than flying south or hibernating out of sight.
They are brave …
Good thing God gave all those little birds some warm feathers and outfitted the squirrels with fur coats. Brrrrr!!
Seriously Seeking Answers 