Snow changes the shape of everything. A dead tree trunk suddenly turns whimsical with it’s snowy cap, Stones gain mysterious windows and low stumps take on the shape of dunes. Not to forget the loveliness of a few random snow doughnuts!
leaves past their prime
trunks stripped of fashion
continue reaching skyward
Not caring if anyone sees
these vulnerable gestures
imprinted on solid sky
Unwilling to surrender
to gravity or axe
Two swans feed in the winter bay. Diving in tandem, moving so gracefully, then comically sending their tails to the sky. So easily paired and so at ease with the task of feeding.
Soft waves reveal a treasured glimpse of the bay floor. Shallow waters magnify the colorful display of pebbles and shells – making them appear magnificent for a moment, then back to pebble size with the next passing wave.
An empty conch shell precariously upended at bay’s edge, tipped over with each wave like a chalice offering communion back to the sea.
A graceful act, but it’s the upending of the thing that captures my attention today. Exposed, momentarily unstable, yet playful in it’s willingness to be pushed and pulled by the pulse of tide.
Much like the feeding swans, so relaxed in their search for food, with no concern for the bobbing, vulnerable nature of their airborne tails.
It’s a bit like us – diving for nourishment, coming up for air, then taking comfort for a few spare moments in the presence of another.
So many leaves, so much color! The Red Trail has many mini ecosystems, and each has its own coloring.
Gems from local gardeners (save the plum). I hope to make a painting based on this photo someday soon.
I hope you’re enjoying your local harvest. I’ve been thrilled to eat fresh, organic, lovingly grown veggies from Evan’s Food For Beings CSA. Wow!
Gorgeous ceramic bowl made by Matt Hyleck.
I’ve never been a fan of the somber days of Autumn, but golden light filtered through yellow leaves sways me in the direction of love.
I’ll do my best to capture it’s full glory over the next few weeks. For now, here’s a view from my favorite quiet space on the Red Trail.
I’ve been working with the idea of “leaning in” recently. Leaning as a way to support and be supported by another. This stone is a part of that exploration as it’s leaning against a craggy stick that will disintegrate over time.
I stop by occasionally to check on it and to leave a small gift of wrapped leaves on the stone’s ledge. I hope that a passerby will someday accept the gift and leave another for someone else to find.
I need your help in choosing one of two paragraphs that I’ve written for the “Rescuing Cairn” short story.
Which one works for you? Please choose one and check one of the boxes below.
Taking the long way around, I chose crossing a thicket of brambles over risking a meeting with the porcupine’s mother. Another cry, more insistent this time, begged me to follow. Moving as quickly as possible over craggy rocks, rushing past sticker bushes intent on grabbing my legs, I managed to skirt past large patches of poison ivy and avoid eye-poking branches as I followed the cry to the boggy valley below.
More cries pulled me into the thicket. Blackberry thorns scratched my ankles, poison ivy brushed my arms as I pushed back eye-poking branches to clear the view only to find more brambles and branches. Still unable to see much in this mess of forest, the cries directed each step as I stumbled over a jumble of jagged stones.
At last I’ve captured the elusive Red Eft in a prehistoric ramble! It was tricky business to get this rare footage as the Red Eft is known to stand completely still for many long minutes when cameras are rolling. Enjoy this rare opportunity to witness tiny feet crossing lichen covered stone!
I found this red-spotted newt (Notophthalmus viridescens) hanging out by what remained of a mandala I’d built only a few days before. I love these small creatures for their fantastic color, and resemblance to dinosaurs. Easily scared into a frozen posture, it can take many minutes of sitting very calm and still to witness their tiny feet move to a prehistoric rhythm, but it’s well worth the wait. I’ll try to capture this on video to share with you sometime soon.