milkweed pods

at the end of my garden just behind the garage is a space preserved for the fairies. my grandma emphasized to me the importance of leaving part of a garden untamed so that the fairies had a place for themselves. today i visited their little place and was immediately drawn to a beautiful glowing object . . . here it is . . . i remember cutting the pods from their stems in late autumn and putting them back here in the hope . . . .

shore lines

spring. riverside. ice. mouth.

breath taking

i searched for words to bring this little moment closer to the surface here.

and so, with your understanding . . . 

a rebuilding of a poem boris pasternak wrote long ago entitled, 

"winter sky".

"ice plucked whole from 

the past week’s stars all frozen in flight.

each turn’s a constellation.

that moon, a numb hound’s tongue

is there, frozen tight,

filled with lava of breathtaking ice."

morning reflections . . .

morning reflections. 

the north island of the silver bean archipelago . . .

late afternoon reflections

late afternoon reflections. 

the cliffs on the north island of the silver bean archipelago . . .

the passing of the ice

i find a place on my journey home where i can slide down the banks to the river each and every day. they are sometimes leaf-covered. sometimes muddy. sometimes steep enough that the journey down to the river's edge and the journey back are little adventures in their own right. these days i am searching for ice. ice that has coated a boulder, a snagged piece of driftwood, anything. i don't know why. it just seems right to hold the moment of the passing of the ice.

how we see . . .

a small rock in the river. ice has gathered 'round its form . . . .

the boulder

i've watched and photographed this boulder over the years. the split started a few years ago and through the actions of temperature, ice, the river itself, it has reached this state . . . .

it's hard to know

was it something he said?

team shot

here are some of the members of my painting team . . .

my palette - the lid off a dominoes tin . . . .   every couple of paintings i attach a grinding wheel to my electric drill and grind the paint off it . . . .

my water jar . . . once it held pickled beets from my mum . . . 

the desk with brushes and templates and my favourite beer goblet . . . 

a new painting

the sun...

the moon ...

the kittens ....

the kittens are now two weeks old!
here are two of them. miss grey and mica minor were unavailable for comment (sleeping).


moksha minor ....

ginger tom .... (possibly!)

riverstars

a thin skin of ice has returned to the river's edge providing a home for the little snow roses that like to grow on it ....

icy backyard art

the edge of what's left

lying on my tummy beside the river taking in the edge of what's left . . .

march yard duty

quiet as a feather

"Quiet as a feather.

I hardly move though really I’m traveling

a terrific distance.

Stillness. One of the doors

into the temple."

Mary Oliver

something there that might be special . . .

i saw something small and shiny between some rocks. so, holding onto old vines and bits of dead plants, i slowly slid down the bank until i was close to the water's edge . . . holding the camera as close to the river's skin as i could, i couldn't see the actual picture i was taking. i had a sense that there was something there that might be special . . .

kittens!

nine days ago i came home from school and my son Dawson was waiting for me at the door. "dad, i've got something to show you!" he showed me a box where our girl cat was sleeping. i thought nothing of it until he pointed out what she was wrapped around . . . . so, here they are! moksha minor, mica minor, ginger tom, and miss grey! WOW!!

overcome space. overcome time.

“Overcome space, and all we have left is Here. 

Overcome time, and all we have left is Now.” 

Richard Bach, Jonathan Livingston Seagull

the early evening geese

the early evening geese .......

what's sauce . . .

at the morning breakfast meeting of some of the local winged creatures, 

a discussion around the merits and effects of the saying 

"what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander."

all the soft

all the green of river ice:

all the soft of a left behind feather ....

free art!

it won't last forever. free art on my driveway . . . .