Ginger spends her days sunning herself on a tightrope 25 feet in the air. Now and then, she makes my heart stop when she jumps off her perch on the railing to the ledge. In my mind, I can see her missing her landing and going all the way to the ground. At this very moment, this Mourning Dove was having the same thought.
I think there’s a snack waiting for me
I love that it is now staying light later and we can get a nice long walk in after work. The downside is that everyone else has that same great idea and we are all jamming our cars down the neck of a soda bottle. Not terribly efficient.
With all this rain, I keep saying to myself April showers bring May flowers. What the hell does March rain bring other than a muddy mess? It has the cherry blossoms in bloom and the daffodils. Daffy-dills are my favorite. When I was a kid, the whole front pasture was covered in daffy-dills every spring. That is one of my favorite memories from childhood.
I like to look at the bones and lines of trees. They are as much art as the painting hanging on my wall, really more so. The lines of the tree are hints at structure and stability. Any more than that and I am put off, just like in life. Too much structure and I have to buck the system. Yet I follow the same path as everyone else day after day without complaint or hesitation.
With all the rain we’ve had, it was amazing to see this patch of desert today. This ground was a gloppy mess just a few days ago. Mere feet away, the pond level is still way higher than normal.
Did you figure out what the previous day’s puzzle picture was? Answer: The picture on the left has a small tree next to a tiny tree on a tiny island. The picture on the right, the tiny island has been swallowed up by the rains.
This last little collage are some of the photos I’ve taken recently that play with lighting. With photography, as with any art, there are “rules”. One of which is never take a photo looking right into the sun. I love this shot of Coe with the sunbursts and glares. When you enlarge it, you see the detail of her fur and tail. She’s a girl on the go.
Coe is my hero. She’s aging gracefully and has no idea that her number means anything. I took the running pond picture just before the sunburst this afternoon and now she is sacked out getting her eight winks. It’s my turn now.