At the end of a long day, there is nothing better than your own bed. This was the only photo I could muster after Saturday’s art fair & just before collapsing onto freshly-washed sheets. It really is the little things…
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.
Despite the fresh beginning that the New Year brings, come January (in the north country), it can feel that the world has been dead for quite a long time. The landscape appears monochromatic, rather bleak. I turn to the seeds – always full of hope – the subtle grays, browns, and shades of white that form the winter palette – and take heart in the knowledge that every winter eventually turns to spring.
1/365: seed heads on snow
I love the make believe corner at Zola’s school. Or any place that encourages flights of fancy and provides tools for the imagination. Glimmering in shafts of afternoon sunlight, the dress-up clothes whisper an invitation to come and play, to inhabit the daydream.