Where the Lilies Bloomed

When I walked through the Arboretum one afternoon earlier this week, I saw a man wearing hip waders doing fall clean-up work in the lily pond. I had spotted him there a week or two ago too, removing quite a few of the water lilies. This week, he was trimming back the larger, bushier plants, and I stopped for just a minute to watch.

Frequent visitors to this photo blog have seen many pictures of the Arboretum's lily pond in these pages. Its water provides a favorite reflective surface in all seasons, even winter. And I couldn't count the number of sunrises I have watched on these waters. I have also enjoyed visiting the creatures I have found there: the fish, the bumblebees, the dragonflies, the birds.

I am a lover of autumn, as you may have guessed by now. I run around like a fiend in October, trying to see ALL of the colors, trying to capture them with my camera. And I have to admit that while the color time may be my favorite time of year, what comes next is very difficult for me: the dark time, the drawing down of days as we head toward winter. We change the clocks. There is never enough light.

And so it was on this day. It was a day of rain, a rather dark day. And then in the late afternoon, just as we headed toward dusk, the good light began. I was leaving work, had errands planned, but I nabbed 15 minutes of the remains of the day and raced for the Arboretum with my camera, trying to get there to capture some of that beautiful light. (Have you ever seen that scene in the movie Bram Stoker's Dracula where they are in the carriage headed for the castle at day's end, racing the darkness? It was like that. Only without vampires. That I know of.)

Just as I got there, a huge bank of very dark clouds moved over the sun. I would describe them as dark blue-purple, like a bruise. And I scowled to myself as I got there, feeling put upon, feeling grumpy. Would there be no light at all for me on this day?

When suddenly, the setting sun caught the edge of that bruise of a cloud and turned it orange-pink. And I - well, suddenly no longer grumpy - I was there with my camera, capturing the sky reflections on the water. It lasted only a few minutes. But they were moments I was present for: when the light turned the blue-purple darkness into something shining and beautiful, I was there watching and enjoying.

The song to accompany this photo is one I dedicate to the residents of the lily pond, who have entertained me over these past many months: Night Ranger, with Goodbye. Goodbye to the water lilies. Goodbye to the bees. Goodbye to the dragonflies, those sparkle-bugs I have loved so well.

But, lily pond, I am not done with you yet. I will be back to watch the sky on your waters as long as you remain unfrozen. For it is here that heaven comes down. I know this, for I have seen its reflections.