I am mesmerized by the beauty of watercolors in nature and art. How can we not be awestruck by the glorious shades of an evening sunset or morning sunrise? They are the beauty in nature which encapsulates a feast of the eyes, a letter written on our hearts and the place we find beauty and respite from the cares of life. It is no wonder then that so much of our literature includes them. As photographers, we MUST capture them at every opportunity in every place in our world. For us, a return to the Marshes of Amelia Island, Florida and South Carolina give us photography enough art for a lifetime. They are in our estimation the joy in photography and art.
The most beautiful time of the year arrays itself in magnificent color, azure skies and bursting sun-filled days. We are traveling the Shenandoah in search of the perfect southern fall landscape. Where will it be? High or low country? Valley or mountain top? Vineyard or farm? Lakes or forests? Would it be we have many days of breathing in this beauty, fresh air with our companions in hand to capture it all. Come travel with us . . .
~ ~ ~ MY love will come in autumn-time When leaves go spinning to the ground And wistful stars in heaven chime With the leaves’ sound.
Then, we shall walk through dusty lanes And pause beneath low-hanging boughs, And there, while soft-hued beauty reigns We’ll make our vows.
Let others seek in spring for sighs When love flames forth from every seed; But love that blooms when nature dies Is love indeed!
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Love Autumnal, Oliver Jenkins
The last days of autumn travel and photo walks are upon us. We finished our travels on the East Coast, the Shenandoah Valley and final walks at several historic towns and parks. We fell in love again with fall foliage season and its beautiful transitions to sleep for winter. The skies, sunrise and sunsets have been breathtaking as well and we look forward to winter photo walks with those as backdrop to new-fallen snow and ice-laden lakes. Travel with us . . .
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“I will tell you when they parted: When plenteous Autumn sheaves were brown, Then they parted heavy-hearted; The full rejoicing sun looked down As grand as in the days before; Only they had lost a crown; Only to them those days of yore Could come back nevermore. When shall they meet? I cannot tell, Indeed, when they shall meet again…” _Rossetti ~ ~ ~