Eastern Sierra Trip----Autumn leaves on the third day

When more and more crickets told me that it was the time to see Autumn leaves, I had an Eastern Sierra trip with my unfamiliar friends.

On the third day of the tour, we left the Bishop for South Lake. Along the way, we found sporadic discolored leaves. Later, the valley on the opposite side began to brighten up by the yellow and orange color. A little cottage, on the opposite, added some fairy tale aura to the autumn scenery.

Although I didn't think that watching the red leaves was the only purpose, after the first two days' view of always icy snow and greenery, the unexpected sense of autumn, although just a little, like a girl who half-covered her face with her pipa, surprised me a bit.

Autumn Leaves

Color-changed leaves were the last madness of deciduous trees in the Autumn, different from the gentle meditation by evergreen forests. They had their own way of self-cultivation.

I once thought that I would be enthusiastic about photography, but slowly I realized that I was not the case. I want to record every heartfelt moment that belongs to me. The slightly yellow leaves were cigarettes just lighted up, which must be savored carefully. While the most prosperous autumn colors were blazing bonfires at night, dispelling the cold of the world. I had thought I would get tired of large oranges, and I had thought we would never reproduce the momentum, no matter how we shot. But I still could not help being touched by their enthusiasm. No wonder autumn leaves would burn photographers.

Your Name

I was almost moved to cry when I saw aspen above a stream. The autumn wind fiddled these musical symbols full of the tree, using the tremolo. The riot of color of autumn leaves trembled slightly, just like their name ---- Aspen.

Orange has a high-pitched tune, and dark brown has a deep bass. Green is the fifth chord, while light yellow is a soft overtone. The stream is the string of a guitar. I heard the Recuerdos de la Alhambra dispersing in the air. These little bells hanging on the trees, shaking in the sun, were murmuring a name.

Big up, your name.

Light up, your name.

Call your name gently and gently and gently...

Recuerdos de la Alhambra

Today’s Alhambra is no longer the once Alhambra. The chord was ended, and the stage was empty.

I remembered the Spring and the Summer when we played the chord like the world’s most famous musicians. My whisper was a gurgling stream, and your touching was like the wind touching the leaves. The flowers were blooming in the thick bush. The nightingale song with us in the dark. That was A minor tone, a light purple shy tone.

Now it was me here to listen to the once tone at the Eastern Sierra. Oh, yes, I was here alone to enjoy the Autumn leaves.

Autumn Leaves

"I SHALL be able to say “amen” to anything whatever that happens to me, even if it means to exist no longer, to disappear after having existed." by Andre Gide.

I read Gide's "Autumn leaves" that summer. Of course, I read many others, too. I liked those words, but I did not understand fully at that time. In the blink of an eye, those days were gone.

Lamenting and sighing, there were countless beautiful poems of Sad Autumn since ancient times, but what I just remembered was saying nothing. "Just let it go!" Gide laughed.

Now the autumn leaves were resting quietly in the ice and snow. I wish I could get rid of those thoughts that I should have been abandoned long ago.