This is an Accidental Ruby Tuesday, which came my way most unexpectedly this past weekend.

I’d overslept and missed the best part of sunrise, but I nonetheless left the house early enough to see some long shadows and a bit of color.

But the skies were boring compared to the sunrise I’d invisioned, and I drove without a destination, disconsolate yet propelled by my inate wanderlust.

Then, on the edges of Ashfield (it might have been Goshen by then) I passed a rustic building gleaming with chrome detritus of a most unanticipated sort – the Good Time Stove Company:

…yes, a real store, festooned with an interesting array of shiny stuff displayed to the delight of early morning travelers like me.  I’d passed it hundreds of times without stopping, but on this particular morning the light was right, and I backed up to snap this shot.

There are several bits of Ruby scattered about this photograph, though I doubt you can see the most impressive one to me: the glowing red heart affixed to the chest of the twenty foot Tin Cowboy at the left of the photo.

Trust me, it’s a trip.

So at this resolution you might just be able to see the Glowing Red Whatever at the foot of the fifteen-foot Bicycle Wheel Arch which frames the entrance to the stove shop.  I call Ruby-Dab!

…but then, off to the right, was a sign:  “Three Sisters Sanctuary:”

Yeah, I know, “That’s pretty scant Ruby.”  Let’s call it “sorta red.”

But I, being curious, wandered out back, the idea of “three sisters” appealing to me in some way or another.

And there I spied Ruby:

‘Twas a Morning Dragon, fifty feet at least, basking in the break of day, with two-foot chunks of sea glass guarding its sinuous spine, and a belly where fire  lived, and a hideously beautiful mouth where the smoke came out, gnashing its earthbound fangs at the waning half-moon:

This was a truly cool find, and the low light of morning lit it to my liking.

I hope you like it too.

Thanks to Mary over at Work of the Poet for hosting this cool meme.  Go there to see what else is rubilicious!

I haven’t done this before, despite having seen and enjoyed it.  But I haven’t much else to post tonight, so here I am. 

Self Portrait With Hoola-Hoop:

Kind of stumbled into this one early Saturday morning, and thought it might fit into Harriet’s fun meme.

Enjoy! 

Early November is early for snow in the Berkshires, but it’s not unheard of.  So the other morning I wasn’t shocked to encounter The Great White on my way to work, passing as I sometimes do over the high country of Florida.

It looked like this:

No, really, there was snow on the ground:

I’m hoping for a bit more Autumn before actual winter sets in, but in these parts, there are no guarantees.

Anyway, it’s still novel enough to be interresting to look at.

…Before the snow flies.  These are sphagnum mosses growing on a big dead log by the Deerfield river:

Not the best photos, but before long there won’t be much moss ’till Spring, thus these arms’ length efforts.

Hope you like them. 

On the way to work, along the road down to Shelburne Falls.  Mist rising off the river, courtesy of Elliot’s eye for infinite depth of field:

…and a waning Hunters’ Moon set against a Florida (MA) hillside:

…by way of Gizmo, my 400mm accomplice.

They’re both pretty close to raw, as I haven’t time to do much polishing.

Later,

R.

Here’s the Arthur A. Smith bridge in Colrain, Massachusetts:

Spans the North River, it does.  Recently “refurbished,” to the tune of a million and a half bucks.

There are times when I think that’s a bargain; tonight has been one of them.

See more Rubiliciousness over at Mary’s place, Work of the Poet.

Thanks, Mary.  

A drive-by posting here, of this evening’s ride home from work, the first one since we turned our clocks back.

I dislike this time of year for it’s theft of my precious daylight; nonetheless, my circuitous ride home transited from sunset:

…into full-on night, with a Hunters’ Moon piercing the clouds:

The detail wasn’t there, but it made itself known nonetheless.

Sorry to be such a stranger in my own land, but we’re still busy turning piles of boxes into a home.  It’s coming along, though, and I’m hoping to be back in circulation sooner rather than later.

I miss you all, miss stopping by your places to see what’s up and such.  But living in the have-to present is good too, and it’s what’s happening now.

‘Till later,

R

This autumn has been uncharacteristically un-ruby.  I mean, there are patches of reddishness around, but I’m not seeing as many sugar-maple-red landscapes, the ones which truly exemplify the potential Rubiliciousness of a Berkshires autumn day.

Nonetheless, it’s Tuesday, so here’s my best effort in this subdued season.

Powerlines in Shelburne, I think:

The town line’s a bit vague through there.

Yeah, the colors were a bit subdued, but the light was occasionally right enough to break out the box.  Like at this old house by the dam at Puffer’s Pond, north of Amherst:

That oak branch is a structural miracle, much more so in person, where its sixty feet of wind-tossed weight has twisted and waved for a century.

Of course, there have been patches of brilliance, even Rubiliciousness, if I may be so bold.  Distressed maples, like these flooded specimens in a swamp in Florida, gave it up to the Color Gods:

Even the ferns went a bit red as they prepared to call it a year and fold up shop.

And then there was the occasional stray throwback to the Days of Color, to my childhood, when every autumn struck me dumb with wonder.  The skies would pile high with clouds while the farms below blazed in a seasonal Swan Song:

Seems like we used to have more of that.

But now it’s less boisterous, more measured.  Here’s a view of the Connecticut river flowing southward between Sunderland on the left and Deerfield and Whately on the right, taken from the tower on Mount Sugarloaf:

The ruby-clad walker right of center doesn’t really show up at this resolution, but trust me he’s there.

Well that’s all I got for ruby, or at least reddish.

‘Till next week, I mean.  

Visit Mary over at Work of the Poet for more of this rubilicious meme!

Several views, garnered over the last few days.

First, a view of our proudest peak in sunlight and shadow:

…and through a stand of autumn-ravaged birches:

Last Friday we had our first snow of the season, which disappeared from the roadways early on but lingered on high for long enough to snap a picture:

…And lastly, a cheery shot taken from Adams’ Bellevue Cemetery:

A salute to our highest peak!

When my brother and I were little kid my parents would occasionally take us out to eat on a Friday or Saturday night, and because we  were a real 1960s American family, we went to one of those sit-down burger franchises, where the food was fried and, if you didn’t know any better, great for the price.

One of the family-friendly places we frequented (you know, vinyl bench seating so you can mop up after the little monsters leave,) was called Abdow’s Big Boy, with an extensive burger menu for Dad, though mine opted for their Fried Clams every time, some predictably bland white-fish dish like scrod for Mom, who wasn’t overly adventurous as eaters go, and an extensive kids’ menu so Mom and Dad could enjoy their meal without all the bitching.

And outside the place, on the Route 33 rotary in Chicopee,  was a monument to Big Boy himself, a fiberglass likeness which I remember as being gigantically rotund, like a cautionary tale told in code not quite decipherable to a young child.  Somehow the distended abdomen made me distrust Big Boy’s bright smile and Irish eyes.

I hadn’t seen Big Boy in decades, I don’t know how many.

Until just this past weekend.  On the banks of a pond in way rural Shutesbury:

Poor Big Boy.  He’s been holding that ridiculously large burger for what, maybe fifty years now (I said I was little!)  If that were me, I’d be in tears, with the way my shoulders work.

Plus it’s gone a bit green, and I don’t think he’s gonna sell it.

Anyway, this may be my most incongruous Ruby Tuesday ever.  I mean, what’s congruous about Big Boy on the bank of a backwoods pond?

Thanks to Mary over at Work of the Poet for this Ruby meme.