after months of complaining about our historically awful winter, here i am getting all sentimental about saying goodbye to these spare elemental images. i know. i know. part of me is so over seeing the same bare branches and twigs on my daily walk. but the curtain of green that’s coming will be as overwhelming and as familiar soon enough. and when all is said and done, i love the creativity that comes from winter’s forced austerity. my stripped-down winter images in browns and grays are among my personal favorites. pinterest has made it clear that most people respond to brightness and color. so, yes, give me citrus slices, magnolia buds, and crocuses erupting from wet soil. but don’t forget sometimes to give me a single, erect stalk, and a folded umbrella of battered leaves.

late winter leaf

saint paul, minnesota

what began as an intrusion ended as an embrace.

scarred tree trunk

along my driveway, saint paul, minnesota

at any other time of year, i would think of this parched and brittle lily pad as having been baked dry by the sun. but march in minnesota has me thinking about kids standing next to late spring swimming pools, after swimming to exhaustion, purple lipped and blue veined, teeth chattering, shivering inside the towels their parents have wrapped around them.

dried lily pad

valentine lake, saint paul, minnesota

every time i post one of these dead animal images, i have to think about it long and hard. will i offend? will i scare off? is it too creepy or disturbing? and every time, i come to the same conclusion: it is. it is potentially all of those other things, but ultimately it just is. and in its way it is full of difficult beauty. there is beauty in the bones and feathers and animal framing that get revealed in such remains. and there is beauty in the knowledge that two players acted out this scene. and though one of them lies torn and broken, the other player trotted off, or flapped off, and is still among us somewhere, enjoying the great common pleasure of a full belly.trumpeter swan wingfound beside sucker lake, saint paul,  minnesota

i love bougainvillea. to a northerner like me, it always signifies warm temps and flip flops and the heavy sweetness of gardenia hanging in humid tropical air. my daughter brought this one home from palm springs, and i was giddy, but i found myself moving it unproductively around the house trying to find a natural spot for it. at some point it became clear that it just didn’t fit. it looks like a neon sign in an eero saarinen church. like trying to fit duval street into downtown stockholm.

bougainvillea

palm springs, california