copy. flip. repeat.
wondering how manipulated an image can be and still be a STILL blog image. i think this one still qualifies, although i did play with it fairly extensively. i like how it almost seems to move, like a kaleidoscope, if you stare at it long enough. maybe this is what happens during a very long winter, when you’ve been staring at dried grasses for too long, and you have just barely begun to lose your mind…
winter weed stems
this is the time of year when i start seeing photos from friends of early spring flowers, olive blossoms, and hyacinth. here is my contribution. i call it spring in minnesota. enjoy.
coneflower in winter
ferns of a feathers
i had ferns drying in three different corners of of my house. today i gathered them all up into one place, and in the process this photo sort of made itself. it reminds me of the fan of a pheasant or peacock tail, or the tail of some mutant lyre bird. which in turn makes me realize how similar ferns are to feathers in the first place. it’s funny how we crave making connections. really this is just a spill of ferns. and look how i have turned it into a fan, a tail, and feathers.
dried summer ferns
where the glass is
i love sea glass and have spent many happy hours sifting through the pebbles of lake superior beaches looking for specks of rounded and polished glass. but minnesota in particular, and america in general is a place where we tend to throw away cans more often than bottles, and beer more often than wine. it wasn’t until i sat on a mediterranean beach, just ashore from centuries of ships stocked with bottles of wine, that i understood what sea glass was all about. there is a famous line from willie sutton, who said he robbed banks because “that’s where the money is.” i sit on the beach just outside of sète france, because that’s where the sea glass is.
mediterranean sea glass
what’s left above the snow
the snow here has buried almost everything except houses and trees. even the rigid cattails have succumbed and fallen under hummocks of white. the only thing i saw above the snowbank this morning were some tall grasses, with seeds ready to drop when all this frozen water has turned to liquid and saturated the soil. best of luck to you, friends. may your fortitude bring you abundant children.
northern lights tall grass