February 19, 2019. Right about now as I’m posting this, the Super Moon is extremely close to full. It’s daylight and raining, so no right-now photos! Last night She was close enough to full to have a pull on my senses, and to fill my camera. There was a high thin cloud cover moving in, producing a haze which seemed to enhance the overall glow. Intoxicating to stand in the chill, neck twisted at various angles, seeking the best shot through bare tree limbs. The image here is a collage of the best moon uncluttered and the best branches-over-moon.
There have been a number of love poems floating around lately, Valentines of one sort or another. I think this is one of those anothers.
February 12, 2019. Now and then a poem emerges in response to something I’ve read. This is one of those – from puzzling over what Robert Okaji might’ve been thinking when he wrote Window Open, Closed. Realities include Robert’s poem, listening to Alan Watts, and the imagery. Our bay tree suffered heavily in 2018’s freeze, and though now only a fraction of its former size, the image reflects its determination to keep flavoring our suppers. The photo collage includes a prior moon and prior clouds.
Read Robert’s poem here: https://robertokaji.com – click HOME and scroll down to Window Open, Closed.
Listen to Alan Watts “Let Go Of Attachment” on http://www.youtube.com.
February 3, 2019. Our yard is a designated wildlife habitat, and for several weeks the sparrows have been our poster advocates. They take cover in the thick ever-green (in Central Texas) honeysuckle. I’ve combined images of the honeysuckle on rainy days, and included a short video for sound effects: sparrow voices join percussion of rain tapping metal porch roof. Enjoy!
January 8, 2019. One of those stop-in-your-tracks encounters showed up in the sky late yesterday. In a rush to get away from the day’s frenzies … forgot all about those energies … standing transfixed in the driveway. Colors and textures overhead gave the appearance of winter-bare tree limbs ablaze. Just our imaginations, our luck to walk out when we did.
December 26, 2018. ‘Tis that time of year for tending to things put off … I don’t make New Year Resolutions, but I do focus on major to-dos, getting some of them off the list, off my conscience before the year ends. Like cutting back the yaupon holly – arched trunk extending over the sidewalk, into the street. Of course I took photos before we began cutting. The chore is done, off the list, but my conscience is unsettled. If only I could’ve moved the street instead …
December 22, 2018. Winter Solstice caught my attention this year. Long dark nights suit me just fine – not so for all of us. Hence a number of reflections in groups I mingle with. Yesterday @ 4:21 pm Solstice arrived, between two memorable experiences with our Tundra. First, getting stuck in the mud out at my daughter’s tiny house; then, the battery just quit flat at the car wash.
Standing around outside the Battery store, the moon (almost full) beamed … in a trickster joking kind of way … telling me it’s daylight hours that bring problems … night hours would bring relief!
Home finally, new battery dismissing angst, I took camera and tripod outside to see what I might capture. Luck was with me: Several clear shots and a big smile noticing how this incredibly bright moon was totally undoing “long dark night” … trickster indeed!
This morning I woke early and found the moon peeking at me through trees and clouds. Not 100% full until 11:50 today … but plenty full of light and mischief.
December 10, 2018. Today marks 2 weeks since a hurried scurry in my driveway left me flat against the concrete wondering briefly what all have I broken? And who saw me fall? Good news on all fronts – nothing broken and no distressed neighbors hovering. I got myself up slowly, marveling that everything still worked, and began puzzling why I tripped on something always right there, why on the day before I go to my aunt’s 94th birthday, why, why, why?
Richard Wehrman’s poem “Traveling” helps make sense of a seemingly senseless stumble. I’ve added bloom and swirl to a photo of my purple-puffed chin.
P.S. I am back to normal skin tones. More attentive in the driveway. Pondering still.