it’s too early to be thinking about spring flowers, but what does one do with budding trees and green grass and 50 degrees? one makes bouquets of tulips and daffodils and hyacinth. and one reminds oneself that deep march snows always come, eventually, in this part of the world. and one hopes they do come this year. because it’s too early to be thinking about spring flowers.
spring bulbs: hyacinth, tulips, daffodil, and grape hyacinth
i swear that the eloquently spare white lines in this gray stone are not not painted on, but are the sandwiching of an impossibly thin layer of quartz between loaves of gray granite (i believe). it makes me want to play with a japanese sumi brush, like some guy who just watched the world series, and feels an obscure urge to go play catch.
mediterranean beach rock
start at the bottom of this spill of flowers, and move clockwise all the way around to the bottom again. did the colors arrange themselves in r.o.y.g.b.i.v order, or did i arrange them that way without knowing it? is this how the universe speaks, when it wants to be heard? all i know is that i did not intentionally arrange this collection with the colors of the spectrum in mind. i only noticed it as i stared at the photo trying to think of something to say about it.
dried mid-summer flowers
st. paul, minnesota
it’s gotta be a femur, right? yeah. it’s gotta be a wild boar, right? yeah. it’s been here for a long time, right? yeah. it smells bad, doesn’t it? yeah. should we take it home? yeah. mom will want to take a photo, right? yeah. this was the conversation between my husband and my newly taciturn 13 year old son, when they found this bone on the bed of a trout stream in the upper reaches of the orb valley in the languedoc. testosterone is a powerful drug. and my formerly sweet and eloquent and affectionate son is currently experiencing a surge of muscle building and one-word answers.
sun bleached and gnawed bone
ok, minnesota. i can tell you’re doing your best to win me back. no snow on the ground. a few 50 degree february days. and now this. a crystalline dusting of snow to etch the tips of the conifers. well i shouldn’t admit this but it’s working. keep this up much longer and it might be time to put a ring on it.
snow covered white cedar branch
saint paul, minnesota