months fall like leaves

our daughter moved in with us last march. her senior year of college was cut abruptly short by covid, and we have had her back with us for almost a year. a gift in the midst of a year of tragedy and collapse. we will always be grateful to have gotten to know our girl as an adult, before she fledged and started her adult life. i don’t know whom to thank. yet am grateful.

color blocking

it’s a habit of mine to look for color in winter landscapes. ironically, in autumn landscapes i try to look past the shouting colors to find shape and form. as i’ve said. i have rebel tendencies. don’t tell me what i’m supposed to do.

cow-patch

it is illegal to be in possession of bald eagle feather in the u.s. but it is not illegal to photograph them. this one belongs to a young native american woman. it is legal for native americans to have bald eagle feathers. she thought i would be interested in it because it belongs to a juvenile eagle–the cow patch of white being the distinguishing identifier from a mature eagle feather which would be all brown. just the other day, i took a walk along our lakeshore, and in one tree, there was a mature bald eagle with white feathered head, making its high-pitched whistle, over and over. in the adjacent tree, there was a juvenile, looking mottled with cow-patch feathers. we were in a northern suburb of the twin cities. a fairly unromantic setting. and yet my shivers of awe were entirely authentic. and always will be.

juvenile bald eagle tail feather

minimal manipulation

normally i would have spent several hours trying to figure out how to bend this branch convincingly into this shape. but in this case, i found it just like this, hanging from another branch. a gift horse, which i did not look in the mouth.

unidentified winter twig

parasol

i snapped this photo, moments before making yesterday’s exercise in semantic writing. it’s a habit. covering my bases just in case my plan for the day fails, i was happy with yesterday’s image, but this high contrast “plan b” actually reminded me of parasol pines on the mediterranean coast under a hot sun. and in minnesota in january, that was a welcome thought.

white pine