If I could only photograph one thing for the rest of my life, I would choose reflection. There is always something there. Movement, layering, distortion. It’s like going through the looking glass and meeting reality’s alter ego.
82/365: march snow
After the long wait, spring still manages to surprise me. I especially admire those blooms that arrive well before any foliage. They are especially plucky. I hope they remain undaunted when the snow comes…
It was written in the receding line of snow at our neighborhood sledding hill – the last day of sledding for a while. Maybe for the season. With a string of 50 degree days ahead, the world is utterly transformed.
66/365: sledding hill
Today’s post title is also the title of a song by The Head & the Heart. We fell in love with this band after seeing them play live at Festival Palomino last fall.
Zola & I were walking to school early yesterday morning when the first flakes started to fall. I realized instantly how much I’ve been missing the snow this winter. Soon the entire city sparkled bright again. And finding beauty all around me was easier than ever.
62/365: fresh snow on pine tree
While the East Coast keeps getting hammered with snow storms, we in the Midwest have less than half our average snowfall – a measly 15-or-so inches. Frankly, it limits outdoor entertainment options considerably. Fingers crossed for March…
59/365: snow drought
Yesterday on our walk, we came across this collaboration of grass, wind & snow. We watched as the bracing wind transformed the dried blades of grass into precision instruments, guiding their swaying movements like an invisible compass to etch these perfect arcs into the snow.
52/365: wind pattern
Subject matter is limited. That’s OK. I am happy seeking less.
Fresh snow is like a gigantic blank canvas, perfectly suited to the irresistible human desire to make our mark wherever we go.
I always enjoy discovering other people’s creations, like these undulating lines – so like the flowing current – rolling along the frozen creek bed.
50/365: lines in the snow
Signs of life, like ghostly apparitions, like memories fading before our eyes.
I love the linear quality of vines and they stand out among the upright stalks of so many prairie plants. I may have to wait for summer blooms to identify this one, though. Unless you know. If so, please let me know in the comments. Guesses welcome.
37/365: dry prairie vine