Sitting atop a fence post, Image taken at the Bellevue Botanical Garden along the Perennial Border a few weeks ago.
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Zauschia Blosssom
Taken a few weeks ago at the Issaquah's Farmer's Market.
No poignant observations today - only a memory of truly golden sunset light shining through rain.
No poignant observations today - only a memory of truly golden sunset light shining through rain.
Spiderweb IV: Cling
Autumn begins in the Pacific Northwest with the return of the rains and mists.
The water drops dance and splash, but the morning mists - creeping slowly and silently - move across the world after dark, gently daub drops on every edge and thread.
This photo gave me an odd awakening today. It was a short year back that I finally understood The Light, at least in a small way. I was making this image of a spider web when I finally began to understand the transient nature that changes second by second, never to return in just the same way again. More importantly, I understood, at least a bit and for the first time, the glorious light of morning and evening.
This little bit I was given to understand and I've spent the last year learning to appreciate. I watch now, all the time, looking for the backlit glow of green moss and the luminous burst of color through the clouds of sunset. These events are amazing things - little fireworks that happen every time the sun shines - and require only that we watch. To me, each one is now a little prize, a private joy given by a sly universe.
Today I was given another gift. Today I learned a little about the subtle nature of The Light: the light during the drizzle of a rain storm. The tiny, delicate highlights beamed from a clouded sun, still change with every passing minute, but seemingly slower, a bit attenuated and more subtle. Such a delight; and I only had to look.
The water drops dance and splash, but the morning mists - creeping slowly and silently - move across the world after dark, gently daub drops on every edge and thread.
This photo gave me an odd awakening today. It was a short year back that I finally understood The Light, at least in a small way. I was making this image of a spider web when I finally began to understand the transient nature that changes second by second, never to return in just the same way again. More importantly, I understood, at least a bit and for the first time, the glorious light of morning and evening.
This little bit I was given to understand and I've spent the last year learning to appreciate. I watch now, all the time, looking for the backlit glow of green moss and the luminous burst of color through the clouds of sunset. These events are amazing things - little fireworks that happen every time the sun shines - and require only that we watch. To me, each one is now a little prize, a private joy given by a sly universe.
Today I was given another gift. Today I learned a little about the subtle nature of The Light: the light during the drizzle of a rain storm. The tiny, delicate highlights beamed from a clouded sun, still change with every passing minute, but seemingly slower, a bit attenuated and more subtle. Such a delight; and I only had to look.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Sea Shape
Found sitting atop a piece of driftwood with an underblanket of a sandy kelp leaf, looking out to sea.
Alki Beach, near Seattle, Washington 16 September 2005
Alki Beach, near Seattle, Washington 16 September 2005
Monday, September 04, 2006
Sleeping in a sunbeam, Zurich Hauptbahnhoff
I see this woman sleeping in the Zurich train station frequently. No one bothers her and she sleeps peacefully with virtually tens of thousands of people bustling around her constantly for hours at a time.
I often wonder about her story.
I often wonder about her story.
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