f/11 • 1/6s • 400mm • ISO 100
October 7, 2026
The In Between
The lawn still holds a summer green,
The porch pots wear their scarlet crowns,
Yet frost has walked the space between
And turned the high ridge oaks to browns.
The grill is dark and packed away,
The garden hoses stowed in shed,
While wind chimes catch the breeze and play
Above the empty chairs of red.
Too chill to sit, too bright to mourn,
A world half-stowed and half in bloom;
A sharp wind whispers through the thorn,
While shadows lengthen in the room.
We linger on this quiet ledge
Where neither warmth nor winter stays,
Balanced on the season’s edge,
Walking through the in-between days.
Annual game of seasonal Tetris in the carriage house. With frost on the ground, the garden hoses, patio cushions, and gas grill are getting rolled inside for the winter—yet the lawn tractor with the leaf bagger, rakes, and yard gear still need prime access for the next few weeks.
Everything overlaps: summer tools mingling with late-fall chores in the tight floor space. It struck me that this early stretch of October is truly “the in-between”—one foot still lingering in warm sun, the other bracing for winter storage.
Field Notes: Captured up in the Adirondacks last month using intentional camera movement. The vertical motion blurs the deep greens of lingering summer into the first ochres and ambers of fall—dissolving the boundary between seasons much like the gear mingling out in the carriage house.