Sunrise.

Those 3 pictures were taken at the same time and place. The trees are nearly entirely bare in the third picture because they're in a much more exposed position. 

Here's one more photograph, about a mile away, taken at 3 in the afternoon, in the rain.

It's the last day of October.

Write about whatever you want.

Sunrise.

The first picture looks out over the lake at 8:03, 33 minutes after sunrise. The second picture — which has the lake in the background (you can see if you look closely) — was taken at 8:11. The sunrise time was 7:36 [NO: It was 7:24]. We were out there in time for it, and I have a photo, but the view was somewhat duller. Do these details matter? They matter a bit to me, 7+ years into something I call The Sunrise Project. What are the rules, if any?

Sunrise in the woods.

The trees at sunrise.

And here's Meade's view of the sunrise....

The lakeshore path at sunrise.

Sunrise on the lake.

Afternoon in the woods:

The lakeshore woods at first light.

"A few years ago, I had the rather rudimentary realization that my aversion to being cold was causing me to shrink my life to fit within the walls of my apartment during winter."

"I’d decline invitations, measuring the worthiness of an activity by its proximity to a thermostat. When I realized being cold is not an emergency — it’s just discomfort, and discomfort can be tolerated — I got a better winter coat and stopped dreading February so much.

I'm reading "Outside Chance/We’ve plunged fully into fall, complete with cozy scarves and puffy vests. Why not venture into the woods?" — by Melissa Kirsch, who draws a distinction between being "outdoorsy" and "outsidey."

Sunrise.

October trees at 7:33 a.m.

October sunrise.

Sunrise.

"For a minute I thought this was going to be another Anne Carson post."

Wrote Smilin' Jack in the comments to the post that begins "His English mastiff was dying, so he hired her to read its mind. But when she met the man with the messy hair, he kept apologizing for his casual outfit."

And isn't this a lovely tribute to the literature Nobelist who's found her way into a few of my posts? 

There are some writers who rearrange your vision so that other things look as though they are influenced by her mind. That may be what Carson did to Jack and it may be what Carson did to me. Maybe I am picking out different things to blog or finding excerpts in some new way, framing the post differently, and maybe Jack is reading these things differently. 

Don't you want writers to shake up your world? Don't you want to live in the enchanted world where dogs send you messages that psychics step up to translate? 

Carson says some things about dogs. Like this, from page 142 of the Kindle edition of "Wrong Norma" (commission earned): 

Sunrise got rained out, so we set out in midday.

The leaves were changing, the drummers drumming:

Meade lured me into repeating my theory about a baseball word:

"Greg began cautiously. His first video was just him reading out loud a newspaper article about a Florida woman..."

"... who had accidentally burned down America’s fifth‑oldest tree by smoking meth underneath it. After he read it, he said to the camera, 'Isn’t that crazy?' 'The video got 10 or 12 views,' Greg told me, 'and a comment: "You look like you’ve been smoking meth."'"

I'm reading "He Was a Top Lawn Care Influencer on YouTube. Then Everything Went Haywire. Many people think Greg Chism is a freak — or worse. He says he was just following the incentives of the platform" (NYT gift link).

Read the whole amazing story of a man ruined by YouTube. It's adapted from a new book called "The Castle: Adventures in a World of Unraveling Men" (commission earned). The author is Jon Ronson.

Tiny Althouse in the rain/frantic bee in the rose.

Videos by Meade:

Walking at sunrise, between rainstorms.

Video by Meade:

3 hours after the rained-out sunrise, the post-rain sun looked quite white.

Write about whatever you want in the comments.

It's mid-May, the 15th, and we see deep red columbine.

Back home, it's time once again to move the avocado tree back out onto the deck. That's a big production, and I played only a small role in the process, but it was a bit more than just taking this picture: