a peek inside
m.f.k. fisher used to toast her tangerines on the radiator of her strasbourg apartment and then bite into them when their skin was dry and crackly and their insides were still cool and bursting with juice. nothing like that really happened this afternoon when i tried to peel away the skin of this tangerine in order to open a slightly suggestive window onto the inside of this fruit. instead, i tore a raggedy hole in the side of the tangerine, and bruised the wedges of interior flesh into a lustrous sheen. oh well. we’re not all m.f.k. fisher.
tangerine with leaves (Citrus tangerina)
bittersweet, the adjective and the noun
that beautiful bittersweet (n.) is an invasive species is, to say the least , bittersweet (adj.).
bittersweet vine (Celastrus orbiculatus)
vadnais lake, saint paul, minnesota
a winter’s walk
i know that young brides feel more secure somehow about carrying a bouquet of fresh, youthful flowers down the aisle. but i think a winter bouquet is every bit as beautiful, and maybe a little more realistic about how everything’s going to be looking, by the time her marriage has actually proven itself. i would happily wish on any bride a groom who can’t wait to embrace her winter bouquet phase. and who can take or leave the easy and vanishing beauty of spring’s bloom.
bouquet of winter stems
no i didn’t drink too much last night. but this image, as i realized after looking at it for a while, is a hangover from my 2017 project of photographing against a black background. part of what 2017 taught me was how to create depth against my backdrop, rather than just two dimensional pattern and shape. what i was hoping to accomplish in 2018 was not a retreat back to pre-2017 still blog, but to make my return to white a kind of leap forward. this is my first inkling of what that might look like.
leaf whorl from an unidentified brach
tonight we took down the christmas tree. in our circling around the stand to remove the garlands of twinkle lights, we knocked down most of the dry needles, and pushed them into these random patterns, which turned out to be one final present lying under the tree this season. merry belated christmas, still blog.
spruce needles dropped from our christmas tree