Every day I see or hear something that more or less kills me with delight, that leaves me like a needle in the haystack of light.
After a seven week-long drought, four days of slow steady rain arrived exactly on the September equinox. The constant rain healed the deep cracks of dried earth and gradually refreshed and revived the trees, plants, and wildlife. Constant morning fog was catnip to this photographer.
The sweet smell of dry earth refreshed by rain, known as petrichor, filled my senses for days. The woodland path held that scent the longest, the first place Pixie and I explore each morning. 
The ferns and sedges came back to life quickly, as green as if it were spring again.
The circle garden was showing some tattered damage from the weather extremes, but somehow looked gloriously lush in the fog. 
I was struck by the layers and textures in this photo, so I decided to create a black and white version. 
In some ways, I like this one better, as it emphasizes the layers and depth as well as the range from light to dark in this part of the garden. What do you think?
In contrast, the copper corner was a riot of color that required the full spectrum treatment.
Everywhere I walked, everywhere I looked, I was surrounded by notes of beauty. I began to notice the smallest lovely detail and the largest sweep of color and texture. I was walking through a liminal moment in time, the earth balanced between a change in seasons while the fog seemed to stretch and elongate that moment in an otherworldly fashion.
I tried to capture those moments of beauty in the garden with this video, hosted by the inimitable Miss Pixie.
And finally, I was editing photos for this post on my back deck when I suddenly realized that the late afternoon light had changed to a rosy glow. I looked up from the laptop and saw glimpses of a vibrant sunset through the trees. Entranced, I spent the next half hour simply watching the sunset deepen and finally fade. I’m not adept at taking sunrise or sunset photos but my friend Mary Pegher is. With her permission, I’m including one of her stunning images of sunrise over a foggy lake in our nearby county park. Oddly enough, I had asked Mary if I could include her photo in this post a day before I experienced that beautiful sunset. Synchronicity lives. 
Photo credit: ©Mary Pegher 2025 Used with permission.
I hope you are having a marvelous change of seasons wherever you live and that you find yourself surrounded by moments of beauty in the coming days.
All text and images ©Lynn Purse 2025, All Rights Reserved except where noted,
composerinthegarden 
Ah, fog…the photographer’s best friend. Beautiful images and video Lynn. And Pixie was a delightful host. 🙂
Yes, I’ve forgone my morning coffee and breakfast several times this past week when Pixie and I go out at dawn and I see the fog. Glad you enjoyed the visuals Kerry, and Pixie thanks you for the compliment.🥰
Hail, fog; as you noted, it’s an outdoor photographer’s delight. And what a glorious sunset photo you borrowed to close the post with.
And speaking of synchronicity, as you did in connection with that photograph, a quiz-show-like segment on a television show a couple of days ago was testing whether panelists knew the meaning of several words, one of which was petrichor.
Mary is a gifted photographer, she films all around the park – the wildlife rarely senses her or at least aren’t disturbed by her presence and she has captured some beautiful scenes. I
I love the tale of another synchronicity, Steve – petrichor is one of those words you never forget once you know it – did anyone get it right?
The questions were multiple choice with three choices. As I recall, one of the three panelists got petrichor right.
“and soft refreshing rain” as our harvest hymn says.
Yes, perfect.
As usual a delightful tour around your lovely garden accompanied by Pixie. I immediately thought of the John Keat’s poem “Ode to Autumn,” where the poet describes autumn as the “season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.”
And that misty sunrise is superb. The swans (?) on the lake just make that photo even better.
Enjoy your autumn Lynn, it’s certainly feeling much cooler here already especially in the early morning.
Thank you for mentioning the Keat’s poem, Jude – it is so beautiful and captures both the bounty and the wistfulness of the season. Yes, Mary has a real gift of capturing sunrises; I believe those are geese on the lake. That area is filled with birds of all kinds, especially the ones drawn to water like geese, ducks, and herons as well as a few bald eagles. We are having sunny mild days and cool nights here, a lovely time to be in the garden.
I agree about the photo you converted to BW. That’s just what I look for in a BW whether I’m converting a color photo or using BW film–depth, detail, patterns. I love the September garden, even the pokeberries that grow around the edges, but especially all the variety of native asters that appear. The change of light and temperature, it’s unhurried.
I love this time of year too, Bernadette, the slanted light is so beautiful – unhurried is a good word for it. I used to shoot, process, and print in B&W in my youth, I still miss the darkroom although Photoshop is a lot of fun too.
Angled light is far more interesting, and more colorful, cleaner highlights and shadows. I generally choose it for paintings and photos alike.
I developed black and white years ago in college, but once I started working as a typesetter in the olden days between hot metal and desktop publishing when we developed strips of photo paper with the type, I decided one dose of toxic chemicals a day was enough. I send mine to two trusted studios who develop, print and also digitize it for me. I also love Photoshop after using it as a graphic designer since the late 80s (before it was called Photoshop) for all the things I often can’t do in my cameras. We’re building images, after all, right?
Yes, we are building images 😊
Your winding-down garden is beautiful, Lynn. I feel at a loss when my days in the garden wane. I am most at peace while tending my garden and miss it in winter. An adjustment we all must make!
Thank you Eliza. I know what you mean about the waning garden, although for the past few years I’ve made so many changes to the plantings in Sept-Oct. that it’s a relief to rest a bit. Then there’s the holidays and then there’s seed starting in January! Last year was rough because I couldn’t manage the seed stuff with the shoulder surgery so I’m looking forward to it this coming winter!