Threshold of autumn

By Erik Hogan

Subtle cues hint to a turning of the seasons. Here in the South we learn to tolerate summertime. We bear the oppressive conditions by tuning them out entirely. Summer becomes agreeable only in retrospect.

It rained. And when the rain left the crushing humidity did not quite return. We noticed. Azure skies spread clear overhead, somehow devoid of a haze not perceived until its absence makes it known. The stifling heat has lost its edge.

In the evening the crickets sing an even, yet shrill tune to the fading golden light. Only then is it apparent that the undulating shrieking of cicadas in the trees has subsided.

Its September now, and the deep green of summer foliage has assumed a yellow cast. The season is still early for leaves to blush orange or red, but the slow turn is in motion. Muscadines, the wild grapes of the eastern woodlands, were in abundance this year. Their voluptuous, tart, and juicy time is short, though. They’ve only scarcely been discovered before their only remains are purple husks littering the ground beneath the vines.

Such transitional times call for attentiveness. Now, in this brief period, the apex of summer’s vibrant maturation collides with a time of winnowing- a time of culling and cutting losses. Flower petals fade too fast and with them the vitality of humming insects in the fields.

My haunts are fading fast, as well. Urban development sprawls at an unprecedented pace. Where once I found empty lands of overgrown grass, thistle, and thicket covered in grasshoppers and butterflies, now these spaces holds endless machinery scraping the earth to patch it with asphalt. Welcome to the new world of apartment complexes and business chains nobody asked for.

My response is to seek out natural spaces protected from such incursions. Thomas Farm Preserve in the town of Watkinsville, Ga is one such area that I have not yet explored. This re-purposed acreage of farmland was only made a city park this past December.

The glowing moon shines brightly in an empty sky before the dawn. It’s a disappointment, perhaps. My oracle, an app that predicts the quality of the sunrise, suggested that this one would be brilliant. I see now that the lack of clouds in the sky refute this claim.

Still, the profligate blooms underneath diffuse lunar illumination capture a quality of light indescribable by words. The visual, blended with the crisp morning air, perfectly illustrates the precipice of autumn.

Exploration of Thomas Farm Preserve reveals a land of open pasture encircled by forest. It is the quintessential American South, captured in a microcosmic snapshot of space and time.

Wandering the trails that traverse this land, I think on all of the similar local areas I once knew that have recently succumbed to development. Cows from a neighboring property watch as I explore and come closer to investigate. What do they perceive about the turning of the season that I have failed to grasp?

Into the forest at the back of the property. Calls Creek forms the border between the preserve and the subdivision beyond. Most people do not venture this far back. This clear stream maintains its wild aspect, despite its proximity to the docile and submissive houses beyond its outskirts.

I wonder. Do the profound mysteries of nature bend to the encroachment of man? Perhaps the entire notion of civilization is an hubristic fantasy?

This juxtaposition of the natural and the fabricated here makes me consider what in life is authentic. I attempt to capture the highest quality of the ‘natural’ in a photograph; to convey the emotional impact of unrefined nature. Yet to do this I place a leaf or two in the foreground of a stream composition. It adds color, contrast, and interest to the scene and makes it more impactful.

Still, it is a lie.

A small cascade and what can be considered, maybe, a true waterfall. Here there is no lie. Though a house stands in close proximity, I manipulate nothing in the physical space. Is there a lie? The long exposure blurs the course of the water in a way not perceived by the human eye, so maybe that is it. Perhaps it is in the way I manipulate the contrast and the color in the final work.

Ultimately, I seek to convey an experience more so than the objective physicality of a place and the transition times between the seasons highlight this character.

Early spent leaf litter on the forest floor contrasts with hitherto vibrant green foliage. The significance of that realization is what I observe and attempt to describe in an image. Perhaps sights and experiences are unique to the individual, but if so what are the consequences? Does that make me a liar? Maybe so.

Erik Hogan is an Athens police officer whose photography focuses on capturing the beauty of nature.