as we approach the vernal equinox

the change in the light every day now is noticeable: more of it, more intense, higher angles, more yellow, less blue. it feels so good. like you’ve been chilled all day, and now it’s time for a warm bath.

great plains wild rye at the end of winter

awkward stage

it’s that uncomfortable time of year when it feels like spring, but everything is still brown, and i start photographing the house plants. we are enduring the seasonal equivalent of adolescence. wish us luck.

anthurium flower

early early early

record high temps. and pussy willows blooming weeks before normal. i want to celebrate. i wish i could do so wholeheartedly. but weather has become existential in my lifetime.

pussy willow with pollen

diversity of form

i picked this bouquet on a walk today. these are the final forms that have survived our northern winter. soon they will be overwhelmed by new life. it’s hard to believe such well earned intricacy will be so easily replaced. my 85 year old mother is in the hospital. i am having similar feelings about her life. so vibrant and singular. and yet, the world turns. winter lingers. and spring arrives.

details of a winter weed bouquet

winter alphabet

winter thinks in the language of light blue skis and rolling, snow-white expanses, then writes her thoughts down in the alphabet of russet stems, dried leaves, and goldenrod galls.

goldenrod stems with galls