slowing down

our household is coming to the end of a two month busy stretch. it was self induced, but we are all glad to be done. we are all  in desperate need of long, quiet evening in front of the fire with stacks of books, hot tea, and foot rubs. i’ve started reading again about wabi-sabi, the japanese philosophy and aesthetic of imperfect beauty and simplicity. it’s reminding me how i often prefer the simplest STILL compositions. today i tried to put my recent learning into practice: a single downy white feather, probably from the flank of a humble waterfowl.

white feather (maybe mallard)

inspo

i keep a file of images i love that i can refer to when i feel as if my own inspiration is running dry. in this case a rough oblong shape of white cedar sprays in my inspo file got me through the day, although i have to say in this case that my inspo remains more inspiring than what it inspired. oh well. tomorrow waits.

cedar tips (Thuja occidentalis)

woven

harmony is really just unlike things woven together, staying themselves and being part of something bigger at the same time. i still believe in it, and i think there’s more of it around us than we are led to believe by those who profit, emotionally or financially, by our focusing on the unlikeness, and not the wovenness. so there. cards on the table.

blah

woven cattail and daylily leaves

sprung snare

we leaped from summer to to winter last week, including snow and freezing rain. these wild indigo leaves appeared to be waiting for fall and never got it. instead their summer green got trapped and frozen by the sudden cold.

frost bitten wild indigo leaves

giving birth is messy

i took maybe fifty photos of this milkweed and there were several very elegant angles, but in the end i decided i liked this one best. we have caught her in the midst of giving birth, and i felt we owed it to her to show all the effort and mess she was enduring to multiply herself. bravo, mama milkweed.

milkweed seed pods exploded