The old branches shrouded the stump, looking like wings of snow. Almost angelic to the bunnies or birds that could have hidden beneath, protected from cold or predators.
“Who has wrapped up the waters as a cloak?”
We rounded the curve in the trail and there, ghostly, rising, floating, dripping “drops of water, which distill as rain from the mist.”
On the trail or on the rails? Which way? Last photo on the DSLR.
The first sign of Christmas shall be the last photo on my cell. As my daughter lives 3,000 miles away, we decorate together by sending cell pics to each other. My mother bought this Nativity set in 1963. Remembering setting it up and turning the key to play its music brings her back to me. This year, looking at the old box’s splitting seams, I noticed the sticker for the first time: Einneitspappkasten? Hachstgawidt? “Made in Germany.”
Coastal mossy madrona along the Dipsea Trail. ” … how is the wood of a vine different from that of a branch from any of the trees in the forest?” Or a blanket of moss from leaves?
Texture on the hiking trail
Texture of light and brick in Sacramento
And what about the elastic texture of time? It flies smoothly when having fun, yet drags roughly when dutifully dogging work.
I’ve not had time to capture or create an image to express this taffy-pull challenge of returning to work, that necessary reality tugging time from photography. And, therein lies the rub of my existential Which Way Photo Challenge: take time to make a living or make time to take a photo.
All hail the end of the COVID-battical!
Last full moon waning — last on the DSLR
Last trail trekked — last on the cell camera