After we came home from the Underground Railroad excursion, with a camera and time on my hands, this Euonymus bush fringed with scarlet leaves caught my eye. Starting with a leaf here and there in September the flame-like color spreads until it takes on the character it is named for “Firebush.”
Springtime it is covered with tiny green flowers, each turns to a small, fleshy fruit encapsulating tiny seeds said to be loved by birds. As ours neglect the fruits, I’ve taken to collecting them to spread along the borders of our back property. Here and there some have sprouted around the bush, this year I marked a few to move this winter when the plant is dormant. I have high hopes for success of this project as the species is known as “invasive” in 21 states.
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All parts of the plant are toxic, causing severe discomfort when eaten. The name “Spindle plant” was given it in England for the corky wings that grow long the length of stems, not so pronounced with our Euonymus species.
Here are macros of the flaming leaves and fleshy berry.
We have often travelled Lower Creek Road as an alternate route to visit my son and his family who live in Freeville, a village named for the activity of the Underground Railroad. After noticing this sign in passing for years, this week we stopped on a glorious autumn morning to capture it. I had packed the Sony Alpha 700 dslr for just such an opportunity.
Just off the road, under a maple tree in full autumn color (yellow), ground covered with fallen leaves (brown) on a fine early October morning, the sign reads, “New York, UNDERGROUND RAILROAD, HOME OF WILLIAM HANFORD AND WIFE ALTHA C. TODD, WHO SHELTERED FUGITIVE SLAVES ON THE WAY TO CANADA AND FREEDOM, STATE EDUCATION DEPARTMENT 1932”. These dark blue background, bright yellow letter signed are found throughout this region and much appreciated.
October 5, 2014 found Pam and I at Keuka Lake after my son completed the Wine Glass Marathon. Here we are at the finish line in Corning, home of the Corning Glass Factory. You may know it from your set of Correlle dinnerware.
Marathoner and his proud father
Afterwards, Pam and I made it up to the Dr. Frank Winery for a tasting followed by dinner at a local restaurant. Here is a photograph from the same viewpoint, using the “zoom” setting of my Sony DSLR A700. The view is more interesting than the winter shot of “Keuka Lake Winter I” from the autumn clouds and the burst of late day sun on the eastern lake shore.
This is the juncture of the “Y” shaped lake where the two arms joint the long foot. The pointed high headland is the point where the two arms meet. We are looking north here. The western arm, on the right, is unique in that the water is flowing down into the juncture. In Keuka Lake the water flows in two directions. The flow of lake foot and eastern arm is in the opposite direction, Keuka Lake empties at the top of the eastern arm, eventually reaching Lake Ontario.
North View from Overlook using “Zoom” lens
Here is the eastern view, from the overlook, looking over a vineyard ready for harvest, covered with fruit and leaves. Every once in awhile there is a loud “bang” from a noisemaker used to discourage birds from feasting on grapes. The buildings along the shore are summer cottages, Keuka is lined with them.
East View on an autumn afternoon
The same view, from our December 2018 visit. The vines are bare, the fallen leaves cleared, the vine roots covered under banked earth to protect them from the cold.
Pam and I, enjoying wine after the 2014 Wine Glass Marathon. Cheers!!
Yesterday, Pam and I headed to the peneplane behind our home to enjoy the Finger Lakes terrain graced by fall colors. The day before I noticed the Japanese Maple leaves had turned from maroon to vermillion. While waiting for Pam to get ready, I capture the following two shots.
This tree was planted by my father and mother in-laws. Developed over the centuries by the Japanese, specimens reached England in the 1820 and spread from there. It is not strictly accurate to call the color vermillion, since cinnabar finely ground produces the pigment for which the color is named, when the sun strikes the leaves vermillion is a metaphor for the impression made.
The scientific name for these trees is Acer palmatum with common names Palmate Maple (for the shape of the leaves “like a palm tree”, as for the scientific name), Japanese Maple or Smooth Japanese-Maple (for the bark).
We drove under the clouds, enjoying the rare dramatic shafts of sunlight and I gave up, finally, tying to time my shots. Here is the view from Connecticut Hill.
The previous photos were taken with a hand held Sony Alpha 700 with variable lens. The next two are with an Apple iPhone I had a hand when Pam and I returned home for a walk around the neighborhood to witness the transformations.
We were surprised by this orange maple, never recalling this shade before. Like our Japanese Maple were assume it is a non-native ornamental.
Our Japanese Maple is a challenge to capture photographically as it grows beneath a larger “nut” (don’t recall the kind at the moment) tree. We are working together to improve that, so I don’t have an overall photograph.
Here is our neighbor’s Japanese Maple. They have a story of carrying this tree, as a sapling, on the bus from Long Island. I love the impression of dark limbs among the clouds of red foliage.
This photograph (the “far” of the “near and far”) is from a remote corner of Chiricahua National Monument, during the trip mentioned in my post, “History and Ghosts of the Triangle T Ranch”. To get there, I drove over a mountain pass to a location was featured in an “Arizona Highways” I read long ago.
I call this photograph “Red Dragon,” the formation is known as a “maple “
dragon”, from the long sinuous form of the tree limb. Known for this reddish orange autumn color, this is a Big Tooth Maple, AKA Canyon Maple. Scientific Name Acer grandidentatum (as in “big tooth”). It is a wild specimen, living along the north fork of Cave Creek. It is a area well know to avid bird watchers and ornithologists.
An 84-degree October walk up Cascadilla Gorge—quiet paths, bluestone porches, fresh paint on the bridge—waiting for the footbridge to catch the last, warm evening sunlight.
Every fall I make a point of walking Cascadilla Gorge at least once. On an 84-degree October 9 afternoon, Pam was tied up with chores, so I parked downtown and stopped to see the grandchildren. They were with their mom. Two were “too tired” after school to do anything. The youngest, at the age of four, was not yet in school and he floated the idea of the skateboard park; for me, that wasn’t in the cards. So I set off on foot up Court Street, past the residence of Buddhist monks at the gorge entrance.
Cascadilla Gorge is part of Cornell Botanic Gardens (formerly the Plantations), the university unit that stewards natural areas and gardens across campus. Foot traffic was light. A sign explained why: the lower trail was closed at Stewart Avenue, where the bridge spans the ravine. I crossed to the north side by the Christian Science church and wound up Cascadilla Park Road to the rim trail that climbs East Hill toward campus.
Homes line this stretch, porches facing the gorge where the constant music of creek and falls carries up. Not feeling ambitious, I made a few phone snapshots. Here the path squeezes past a porch built of local “bluestone,” a feldspathic sandstone native to the region—around town it’s sometimes called “Llenroc,” Cornell in reverse.
That pot you see in the previous photo gets a closer look here, with more of the same weathered bluestone.
The drop to the gorge floor is steep, sheer in places. The barrier fence looks stout in some sections and thins to almost nothing in others. A few years ago, a recent Cornell graduate walking home late along this path fell to his death. I continued to the fork for the Ithaca City Cemetery, climbed to Stewart Avenue, turned right to cross the Cascadilla bridge, then right again onto the Gorge Rim Trail back toward town. At the bridge I noticed part of the closure work: fresh paint on the bridge and on the suicide-prevention netting beneath. On September 24—just fifteen days earlier—a Cornell senior had jumped; the net caught him, and the fire department brought him to safety.
From the concrete barrier in that photo you can peer into the gorge: a beautiful view, the steady voice of water rising from below. I try to leave the darker stories where they belong—at least until the sight of fresh paint pulls them back to mind.
I took the following photograph in 2005, the September before my previous post, “Autumn Stroll in Sapsucker Woods” with the Kodak DSC pro slr-c, an ND filter, 50 mm lens and a tripod. It was a planned session, I work waterproof boots and was able to stand in the creek after a series of rain-free days. At this time of the year the gorge opens to the setting sun. I waited, taking a series of photographs for the perfect amount of light on the footbridge. The feature photograph (the header to this posting) is a detail from a shot with the bridge more fully lit.
The header image for this post comes from a planned session in September 2005, just before the photograph of my “Autumn Stroll in Sapsucker Woods” post. I used a Kodak DCS Pro SLR/c with an ND filter, a 50 mm lens, and a tripod. After several rain-free days I wore waterproof boots and stood mid-creek. In autumn the gorge opens to the setting sun; I waited and shot a sequence until the light laid perfectly across the footbridge. The banner image is a detail from a frame where the bridge is more fully lit.
We have a framed print of that photograph at home. I mounted it as a gift to Pam on our first Valentine’s Day.
“September Sunset in Cascadilla Gorge”
If you’ve walked Cascadilla Gorge in autumn, I’d love to hear your favorite vantage points—porches along the rim, the lower stone steps, or the footbridge at golden hour. Do you know any stories about Llenroc bluestone on these houses, or remember the Stewart Avenue Bridge before its safety upgrades? Photographers: what helps you balance deep shade and bright water from the designated trails? Share a tip or a memory in the comments.
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Copyright 2025 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills
On Halloween morning 2004 I set out with a camera upgrade purchased spring of that year, a Sony “Cyber Shot, DSC-F828” with an inexpensive tripod. My photograph “Autumn Stroll in Sapsucker Woods”, the feature photograph and below, achieved prizes with the Photographic Society of American and a few sales of self-produced prints. It was an early success.
Click any photograph to visit my Online Gallery “Finger Lakes Memories.”
It is available on my Finger Lakes Memories online gallery where I provide recommendations for sizing, the best print medium with ideas for frame and matt.
The fall of 2005 I invested in a Kodak DCS Pro dslr-c and a Canon EF 50mm f/1.4 USM lens. October 30, 2005, one day short of the 2004 Halloween shoot, found me driving down Fall Creek Road on a mission of revisiting Sapsucker Woods to possibly improve upon my offerings.
Over the years, travelling Fall Creek Road on my daily commute, I admired this well formed maple next to a farm field. At 6:45 am the sun was about this rise, the frost limned grass not yet burned off. This tree turned a bright yellow, here a green-yellow and dull. The form of the tree is perfect. I was never able to catch this at the right moment, it is still there and maybe I can time it this year during a pick-up of my grandson. If I do, my intention is to climb the fence and use the 24 mm lens to capture the tree and shed with less sky (unless there are some dramatic clouds). That day, I needed to make time for Sapsucker woods.
On site, thirty minutes later, as the leaves of the Fall Creek Road maple predicted, Sapsucker Woods foliage is behind last year’s by a week or so. In “Autumn Stroll in Sapsucker Woods” the over story leaves have fallen and the understory is at peak. Here, I believe the overstory is gone, the understory leaves are yellow-green.
I carefully choose the sites and this one is a risen walk of boards. In the nine years since, the walk as deteriorated and this scene will be different, possibly.
This is a match for the 2004 photograph as far as the camera position. What I enjoy from the 2004 version, aside from the foliage, are the details of the fallen leaves taking up the foreground, a carpet filling the field to lead the eye up through the trees, path fading from view to the right.
This effect is not possible on the boardwalk, above. With the fixed focus 50 mm lens it might be possible with effort. Today, the 24 mm is my first choice to capture this effect.
Here we can see the leaf carpet is possible, if the f-stop is higher to allow a crisp focus. In this scene it is f2 because I happened upon a buck in a daze. He was just standing there as I headed back to the car. I did not risk changing out lenses to the telephoto, so I moved forward slowly.
The best I did was this rear view as he looked backward. Lack of flexibility is a draw back of a fixed-focus lens.
In 2004 my day concluded with Robert Treman State Park. In 2005 the 50 mm fixed focus with a ND filter and tripod was in its element. The sun is higher and overcast, one background tree is a peak foliage. The moderate water flow and stair complete the effect. This was my best work of that day. I need to get this up on the “Finger Lakes Memories” gallery.
Other postings of interest. Click the link to go there.
More from the day Pam and I walked up the hill from our Malloryville Mill House.
The setting sun works its magic on a century plus maple tree on an esker bank. The glaciers deposited this esker, under the tree, when waters from the melting flowed under the ice to carve a tunnel later filled with glacier debris.
Click any photograph to visit my Online Gallery “Finger Lakes Memories.”
The light brings out the beauty of two this pair of silos from the early 20th century abutting an abandoned barn and active cornfields.
Pam is using my first camera, a Sony Mavica. It writes to a 4.5″ disk that limits the number of exposures and I carried a number of the disks. It has a decent variable lens. We still have that camera. These photos are from my Sony dslr Apha700 with a variable lens.
At that time, our three apple trees gave a bountiful harvest. We spent two days making and canning apple sauce. For some batches we’d grind in blackberries or concord grapes. We enjoyed the work over the next year. Our grandchildren loved that stuff.
These apples hung from a tree of the farm house next to the abandoned barn. A young family lived there, their toddler daughter recognized us from other walks and came over for a “hello”.
Other postings this Harvest View evening. Click the link to go there.
Libe Slope is between the West Campus and Quadrangle / Libraries.
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Cornell University is on a west-facing hill above Cayuga lake.
Besides the exercise of walking the 18 degree incline several times each day, Cornell students and alumni remember The Slope for autumn color.
Wonderful Flow of Limbs among Gold
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Hickory
Seen from the north on a cloudy October day, this Pignut Hickory (Carya glabra) is the largest tree on the Cornell Campus, at 79 inches in diameter.
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Cornell University is on a west-facing hill above Cayuga lake.
Take another look at the previous image. Can you find the grey squirrel? This hickory grows south of the Johnson Museum and among the autumn glories, it is the largest and brightest yellow canopy on Libe Slope.
Contrast
An overcast day is the best to capture this spectacle. October 20, 2012 provided both bright sun and dark, rolling autumn clouds. I waited on the north side, sheltered from the glare of the sky, for these perfect moments.
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I remember this hickory for the contrast between the canopy and trunk, the way the clumps of yellow hang from dark boughs.
The pignut hickory is native to these Eastern United States. It is known to favor moist slopes and this specimen has thrived on The Slope. The ground beneath it is thick with nuts.
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One week later
Just one week later, late afternoon on a sunny Friday as hurricane Sandy approached the east coast the hickory has fewer, tawny golden leaves.
Copyright 2021 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
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