I was an enthusiastic tree climber as a youngster, mounting branch by branch to peek into birds’ nests and feel the bark against my fingers.
Nowadays, my leaf viewing is more distant.
But in Fall we get to see more than just color with fallen leaves. We view them, once again, up close and personal. When I find a perfect leaf, single and individual, I stop, compelled to admire its edges.
Life is a great big canvas.
Throw all the paint on it you can.
~Danny Kaye~
The question is not what you look at, but what you see. ~ Henry David Thoreau. I encountered this dry bear grass waving in the wind that always seems to blow near Flagstaff, Arizona, on a hot summer day. The grass became a metaphor for the winds blowing through my own life. Sometimes we bend…
I once lived near a gully that served as a major byway for wildlife. Through it came bobcats who liked to sit on the big rocks and sun themselves, rattlesnakes who would park themselves underneath my bird feeders and wait for dinner, and these guys. If there is one thing that javelina like better than…
I’m a Weather Channel junkie, and this week I’ve been glued to the screen watching rivers overflow, highways flood, people rescued from rooftops and attics. Water at its most destructive. Yet I am reminded that it isn’t always this way. In the Arizona desert, water is precious, every single drop. On the trail around Courthouse…
Some people collect agate marbles or Japanese netsuke. Martha Stewart collects everything! My goals are more modest. I collect textures. So when I found this abstract image of a pipe and electric wire on an old stucco wall, I was delighted. It wasn’t a Mondrian or a Rothko, but in my book, it was pretty…
What is striking to me about this picture of surf hitting rocks in Maine is that the rock, solid granite, has been worn smooth by the constant plunging wear of the water, advancing, retreating, advancing again. You could put your hand to this stone, as I did, and feel a surface polished as smooth as…
Wouldn’t it be nice if nature presented us seasons like the calendar does: On this day Fall begins. On this day, Winter arrives. But it doesn’t happen that way, of course. Some days she feels like warm weather and zephyr breezes. On others, she pouts behind fog and rain. And on some days she refuses…