you take what comes your way
yes, i really did ask my husband to hold a piece of black paper up to the outside of our car windshield at 7 AM on a cold november morning, as i sat in the driver’s seat and photographed the frost pattern, and our underdressed son shivered in the cold, waiting to get taken to school. sorry, son. when nature gives you a surreal woodcut pattern on the window of your prius, you take it. go put on a coat. i’m almost done.
morning frost on the windshield
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
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Love your description of harmony and your real-life example!
reply
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
I’ll never curse frost on the windshield ever again! Such beauty!
Thank you for your thoughtful and supportive comments Janice!