I travel, paint, photograph, philosophize and sometimes its just plain rambling. I also sell my watercolors and oil paintings, both originals and prints. The philosophy is free. Just a note; all text and images on this site are copyrighted and should not be used without my permission. Just ask, I love to chat. Thanks for visiting.
This month in Nature Steve Manning, Naturalist From the archives 11.1. 97
"November is an elemental fugue weaving a counterpoint of sharp, clear, blue-sky days raked with gold-glint light set against leaden gray and wet silver days dark and shaking with winters first storms. Plant and animal life settles down, sap descends to root, and frog, turtle, chipmunk and bear disappear into earthen sanctuary and the sleep of endurance. Leaves fall, needles fall, spent stalks fall and form a murmuring of dry whispers upon the dampening earth. Counterpoint to this settling is the rising presence of the mineral earth seen in the ridgelines, rough with outcrop and gully, emerging through the thinning veil of forest, in the unclad streambank appearing beneath the bare willows, in the long shadow's revelation of the least undulation of the land's surface. There is a deep quiet in this music. The choruses of birds and insects that set the summer ringing are gone, leaving not silence but stillness and clarity. Individual voices are embroidered on the velvet hush of November like the entwined sonorities of a string quartet: the soft bouncing hoot of the owl. the resiny creaking of dry. bare limbs, the fading tremolo of the last cricket, the deep, soughing continuo of the swelling north wind. November's beauty is in the harmonies of opposites, of yearning and reluctance, of coming and going. It is the gabbling of geese flying high in cloud-choked sky that speaks of an easy comfort in a sky-far realm, and it is the whisper-roar in the tall, dark pines that suggests it's time to shut snug the door and be glad of home." Copyright: Steve Manning
This month in Nature Steve Manning, Naturalist From the archives 10.1. 97 "October is like payday with the afternoon off. It is the late afternoon of the year, sunny and warm still, but dramatically sculptured with the season's swelling shadows. The roots of trees and persistent herbs alike are full and stocked with sun-made carbohydrate provisions for the distant spring. In field and prairie seeds are abundant, making life as easy as it ever gets for the grass-gleaning sparrows and the thistle-feasting goldfinches. Likewise, the seed-fed mammals-mice, chipmunks, voles-are at their fattest and most abundant, their legions offering a similar ease and sufficiency to the young owls, red-tailed hawks and foxes honing their hunting skills in preparation for the cold test of winter. The elk in the mountain meadow, the pronghorn in the sagebrush steppe, the whitetail deer at the orchard edge are sleek, strong, fat and full from the summer's plenty and give themselves to the needs of procreation. Bugling, snorting, clashing, courting, their ancient rituals of contest and mating are the heraldic culmination of the year's generative surge.
October is also The Color. Decreasing daylength and the need to avoid winter's cold desiccation prompts many broad-leaved plants to withdraw support from their leafy factories, slowly wall them off and let them go. But in their going, as the green chlorophyll fades, they flash the most extraordinary chromatic excesses of the plant world. Crimson dogwoods, orange sassafras, red maples, yellow birches, purple sweetgums, golden beeches, bronze oaks-nowhere in the world is this display so fine and monumental as it is in the remnants of the eastern hardwood forest of the U.S. Creeping down from the heights of the White and Green Mountains of New England like a glowing tide it flows through the valleys of the Hudson and Delaware Rivers, and as it follows the ridgelines of the Appalachians it sets alight the forests all the way to Georgia.
Though it is at its grandest in the northeastern woods, the color illuminates and graces October in every region. There is the crimson flame of the vine-maple against the deep green of Cascade conifers, Whole mountainsides in Colorado's San Juan's are awash in the clear, tremulous yellows of the quaking aspen. There is the brilliant gold of the black oak against the blue-gray walls of Yosemite's granite and the yellow-orange shimmer of the cottonwood against the red Navaho sandstone of Utah's canyonlands.
Winter's night may be certain and close, but on a clear October day, harvest-fed and color-full, it feels like payday and life is good."
Copyright Steve Manning Photo by Michele Ross /Utah Aspens taken on Sept 24th 2025 on the Markagunt Plateau
This Month in Nature Steve Manning, Naturalist from the archives Sept 2 1997 enjoy......
"September is the summer summed. All the effort and striving of the sprout, the stem, the leaf and the flower culminates in ripeness and seed set. On the mountain ridge the whitebark pinecones swell with fat nutmeats that Clark's Nutcrackers will collect and stash to insure the survival of both nutcrackers and the pine forest. Along the meadow-edged stream gravels the fireweed loses a gossamer whirl of silvery, wind-sailing seeds, while in the tangled thickets of the stream's lower reaches the wild rose hips begin to blush like scarlet embers. In the woodland acorns hang fat and shiny on the oak branches where the gray squirrels work frenetically to put by the winter hoard. And in every open place there are the dry whispers of the grasses, their green turned gold and their seed-heavy heads nodding with the promise of not only their own kind, but also of future fieldmouse families, Song Sparrow serenades, and the dances of the Sandhill Cranes. Within the warm comfort of bounteous September are the tell-tale signs of the annual ebb of that protoplasmic enthusiasm that is so intimately connected to the intensity of sunlight. The treetops and skies are full of songbirds and shorebirds hurrying from the diminishing daylight of northern realms. There are Magnolia Warblers headed to Costa Rica silhouetted against the midnight moon, Lesser Yellowlegs rhythmically beating to the beaches of Uruguay, and the Panamanian-bound Tree Swallows forming restless flocks that have the chaotic wholeness of smoke. Even as the asters put on the flowery finale of the year with their blue, starred beauty and galactic profusion, unseen in plant stems everywhere the sap is falling, retreating into the safety and surety of bulbs, roots and earth. With this withdrawal green chlorophyll is no longer replenished, unmasking at last the hidden browns of tannin in the beech leaf, the dusky purples and brilliant scarlets of anthocyanins in the maple and liquid amber, and the bright clear yellows of carotenes and xanthophylls in the aspen and cottonwood. As we slip past the equinox into the time of long nights, September offers in its bounty of seeds and nuts, in its south-streaming feathered multitudes and in the chromatic apotheosis of the leaf, a season's summing and a comfortable assurance that we'll see it all again." Images and words, Copyright Steve Manning
We lost Steven in December 2024, and he is keenly missed.
My brother Steve Manning passed away the night of Dec 14th, 2024 after battling cancer. On April 28th 2025 a Celebration of Life Memorial gathering was attended by his many friends and family and his partner / wife Syd of 57 years. It was a beautiful event & a true celebration of this unique, remarkable, and talented being.
From my family the event was attended by our oldest brother Roger, our brother Bruce, our nephew Nathan, my husband Bob & myself
True to his unique outlook and views about life and caring for the planet, Steve asked to have his body composted, which took a few months, thus the memorial in April 4 months later. Each family member was given a small canister of this composted earth and I plan to plant a tree or rose in my garden in honor of my much loved brother.
Its hard to find words to describe this wonderful person so I'll post a few video links from some who spoke at the event. And then a few remembrances of my own, and some of Steve's own words.
April 29th post
From his wife Sydney, a friend read what Syd wrote about Steve.
In this 2 minute video, one of Steve & his wife Syd's longtime friends reads something Syd wrote about Steve, and its so perfect I thought I'd share it here. A glimpse into what made this brother of mine so incredibly special. They were together for 57 years when he passed. Many of us, family and friends both, also learned so much from him about so many things. An inspiration to all of us. I wish I could share more, but many of the photos of Steve or by him are from his collection and not mine to share. Syd is the one in a black and white blouse on the far left when I panned that direction. The videos are just from my iphone and I'm very much amateur with videos.
My brother Roger Manning. Unfortunately It got cut off a a bit too soon but here are 13 minutes of stories about Steve.
My brother Bruce Manning
Our nephew Nathan Gosink
Part 1 and 2
The whole playlist with one other friend included, at least what I managed
"Michele, I'm sorry this is a bit late, but I could never forget your birthday as you are sandwiched between Mozart and Mom which is an enviable and unforgettable place. I just started chemotherapy yesterday and have of course been wrapped up in preparation and apprehension. The infusion went well and day two I felt remarkably well and thus I have high hopes. I know it is inevitable that there will be downsides including probably having my 50 year old braid fall off my head. What can you do, it is still so lovely to walk amongst the living I'm going to try to do it for a while longer.
One of the things I have been doing of late is going back over my archive and reworking some images that I never felt I quite got right. This image I am sending you is one of those I think I now have right. It is an image taken high on the great dune in the Eureka Valley in the northwest corner of the expanded Death Valley NP. The dune is a juvenile sandstone being formed, the sand is from a Jurassic granite to the west and the huge wall of the Last Chance Range is Cambrian, half a billion years older than the dune and holding evidence of the first abundant metazoan life. All in beautiful juxtaposition which we have the wonderful privilege of witnessing. So best birthday wishes and keep watching those beautiful sunrises. Steve"
And another
Meet Herman
the young astronomer
Some thoughts I wrote to Steve 10 days before he passed away:
To my Dearest beloved brother Steve, and Sydney too.
I heard it's been a bit rough for you, and that our phone call tomorrow is postponed. You are much on my mind and heart.
I thought I'd share a few musings of memories I have.
There are a few memories that are salient and precious to me of time with you. You may not know what they are so I thought I would tell you.
I have the very faintest and fleeting memories of Thailand. My first audio memory in this life is of Thai temple bells ringing and for some reason I think you are there with me. Perhaps you were physically closest at the time , carrying me or holding my hand. Do you recall such a memory?
The next memory is sitting on your lap on the front porch in Kentucky during a wild thunder and lightning storm, and you were trying to explain to me what lightning was. I don’t recall being scared of the storm securely there on your lap, just fascinated and interested. I have loved thunder and lightning storms ever since.
Another memory is when we (mom Dad, Sue, Bruce and I) were on the USS Lurline about to depart for Hawaii in 1966. Mom was crying and upset because you had not come to say goodbye. Then we spotted you down on the dock waving. Mom was relieved but balling her eyes out. I could feel her emotions and it was a very strong grief mixed with gladness. I think we've talked about why she felt that way.
I fondly remember the gifts that Syd made for me, your little sister, that were sent to Hawaii. A velvet cape that I adored , and two hand sewn felt stuffed animals. I had them for many years, but finally gave them away as gifts to a friend’s child. I also still have the glass marble that she made at some point and that you both gave me as a gift. I think that occurred when you lived in Berkeley (and after we returned from Hawaii) in that wonderful Victorian (It was magical to me that house) and that Doberman pinscher? Or German Shepherd ?… what was his name? F…. something.
Then the cabin. Yes, going up to the Feather River cabin where you guys lived. It was such a thrill for me, I loved that trip. What was the name of the old miner that lived up there? Woody? I can’t remember it now. I remember he nicknamed me “Brighteyes” which I loved. I also remember how silly Aunt Barbara behaved on that trip and how that distressed Mom, but it is mostly a very happy memory. I also remember that Uncle Bill had to lay down in the back of their camper while Aunt B drove because he was so afraid of heights and the cliff edge on the road. That was quite a road. And I recall you giving me a photo of you up there, and I still have it. Bruce and I were both so excited to see you and explore the area.
Those are just a few of my favorites, I’ll write more if I think of some.
For now my dearest brother, I want you to know that I love you very, very, very much, and you too Syd, I love you too and am so grateful that my precious brother has you for a partner.
With all my heart, Michele
We will all miss you deeply Steven, but what a beautiful legacy of art, knowledge, and beauty you have left. I was honored to be your little sister.
