there are only so many things you can say about vine tendrils. i have a feeling that my words to describe my love for them will run out long before my eyes tire of looking at them. there may be some wordless vine tendril posts in your future.
languedoc and minnesota
there used to be quince trees scattered across the united states. when you settled a new area you grew a garden and like as not, you planted a quince tree, because quince are full of pectin, and you need pectin for jams and jellies and pies. then in 1913 somebody patented commercial pectin derived from the apple pomace left over from apple pressing, and quince trees were gradually ignored, abandoned, or cut down. i don’t necessarily want to wait for a quince tree to mature before i make my next strawberry jam or freeform rustic apple tart, yet it feels as if something has been lost in the absence of the quince tree in the back yard, that gave such beautiful blossoms in the spring, and promised such sweet pleasure to be stored in the larder all fall and winter.
i tried photographing this arrangement about 8 different ways and then suddenly from this angle, the flower in the foreground looked like a curious little busybody, leaning forward to investigate his surroundings, and i decided i liked him. then i saw the stiff disapproving look on the face of the flower in the background, and decided i liked mr. curiosity even more.
scilla (siberian squill)
turtle lake, shoreview, minnesota
today a friend called and said, with all appropriate urgency, that her magnolia was in bloom. some people understand the important things.
pink magnolia blossoms
the woods outside my window are winter brown and gray, tinged with the palest green. it’s like hearing the first note of a song you love
saint paul, minnesota