life, nature, photography

wood planks

photographed february 2, 2020

I saw these wood planks there in November, just past the edge of the path, in the leaves. I stopped and puzzled over them. They seemed out of place but purposeful. Real hikers and runners (that’s not me, unfortunately, as I’m more of a slow walker) plan ahead. This muddy spot was far sloppier than you can see from the picture. And I was grateful to whoever took the time to drag those boards into the woods.

november 2019

© Etikser. All Rights Reserved.

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

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.


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

life, nature, photography, woods

afternoon walk

photographed 11/18/19

The sky was gray, almost white. Dismal and perfect at the same time.
The air was cool, chilly.
The birds were noisy, busy doing whatever birds do in the afternoon.
Fluttering around in the bushes now, not high in the trees like they are in the summer.
It’s a path I don’t often take.
And every bit of my surroundings shouted (very quietly)
‘late November’.


life, nature, photography, water

the sounds

photographed 11/3/19

I stop and look around,
and think how I can convey the sounds I’m hearing.
Well, I can’t. But I can try telling you.

There are always bird sounds.
Usually, the sweet tweeting bird sounds you’re probably imagining right now.
Sometimes, though, blue jays or crows battle each other, or warn off intruders
with loud kaw-kaw-kawing.

The other sound is running water.
Not rushing water, but a trickle.
The gentle, trickling sound of a barely moving stream.