Is this place an ocean or a desert in winter? I am never sure which, but either way, there is always something to feast one's eyes on and capture with the lens. Old window panes, heaps of books, bowls of fruit and cups of tea, it's all good. Isn't a little uncertainty a good thing, every now and then?
Before the first snow of the season falls, I l wonder how I will survive without autumn's shapes and fiery colors, and I feel a vague anxiety contemplating the monochromatic weeks and months to come. Shame on me for harboring such morose and mutinous thoughts. I should know better.
There are patterns here everywhere one looks, and they all have to do with liquid turnings and sparkling transformation: feathery patterns in river ice as it forms, glossy icicles suspended from trees along the shore, field grasses poking their silvery heads out of drifts, beads of water falling in the garden and freezing in midair, fallen leaves with snow crystals shining through. Everything my cronish eye alights on is food for eyes and lens and thought, a good thing since I am still not able to wander as far as I would like to.
Absent the vibrant and earthy colors dancing on my palette at other times of the year, winter's offerings are a commonwealth of swirling shapes and patterns, each and every one exquisite. Even an egg yolk sun shining through a friend's kitchen window beguiles and enchants.
3 comments:
Yes, I've been beguiled and enchanted...and it wasn't until you named it that I knew the words of egg yolk sun.
So beautiful
you have such a wonderful way with images and words. <3
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