bamboo, nature, sunlit

a sunny sunday

photographed february 9, 2020

If you get up close and keep your eyes on the movement of the leaves, and the rhythm of the breeze, it’s almost like a summer day and standing underneath a willow tree.

But it’s not. It’s February.

And just a cluster of bamboo, at the edge of a creek.

nature, photography, pin oaks, prose, writing

pin oaks

Pin oaks are odd. They keep some leaves til spring. The leaves are ugly, more like tree clutter than adornment. Limp lifeless dull rusty. Nevertheless, on a February day, when the sky’s gray, and everything around you feels dreary and quiet, the wind picks up a bit, and there’s a soft rustle up above. High above.

It’s something like a hiss.

Like frozen crystals brushing by in an icy snow, tick, tick, tick, tick.

Or maybe the scraping a towhee makes when it’s tossing sticks and leaves under brush on a summer’s hunt.

A little softer than the crunch of fancy tissue we bunch around a gift for someone’s birthday.

Yeah, the pin oaks shiver. And then they whisper to the wind.

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photograph from january 18, 2020

december, nature, photography, writing

a winter tale

photographed december 27, 2019

What can you say about the woods in winter? It’s soothing, beige and gray, muted. Soft, gentle on the eyes. Patches of living green scattered here and there, the ivy, the pines, the hollies. Fallen trees on the ground where they came down. No one comes out to straighten up in the woods, to pick up the leaves, to clear away the thorny bramble. It’s solid and calm. It’s tangible. It’s genuine.

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etikser

All photos and images here are my own.
They may not be used elsewhere or reblogged