The garden can already sense that the crispness of fall is soon approaching, and I think that must be why it’s looking so lovely lately. This morning I gave myself a maximum of three minutes to take a few pictures, and I noticed that one of my favorite lighting scenarios was at play: dappledness. Dappled light is a photography no-no, but I don’t mind. Looking into dappled things is a gift of light, and perhaps a hint of what that first glimpse of the Lord might be like – too wonderful, too bright, too glorious to keep my eyes open.

Dappled light also reminds me of one of my favorite poems: Pied Beauty by Gerard Manley Hopkins.

Glory be to God for dappled things –
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;            
Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plough;
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim. 

All things counter, original, spare, strange;                
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
                                Praise him. 

Gerard Manley Hopkins