While I spent much of my walk along Piney Woods Church Road today gazing upward into the branches and leaves, I also found many marvelous treasures underfoot. Here are four from my walk: a grizzled grasshopper, minus one antenna; two roadside still-lifes with leaves and stones; and, from my walk home, a single leaf resting on the white line on the edge of the pavement along Rico Road.
It had been a night of heavy rain, and when I set out down Piney Woods Church Road early this afternoon, the air felt quite moist and the temperature an almost balmy upper 50s. There was no trace of a breeze, and many water droplets still clung to the tendrils, branches, and leaves of all the plants edging the roadway. I made my way slowly from one to the next, savoring plant growth transformed by the rain into artifacts of great beauty and wonder. I share today more artifacts of the watery worlds that I encountered, including several images of Russian olives in fruit.
Today I found myself drawn time and time again to the twists and coils of vine tendrils lining Piney Woods Church Road, many of which held water droplets like round glass beads at their tips. With my camera, I collected relics, like seashells on a tropical island beach. Each one is a container for wonder and imagining.
From my afternoon walk, in which I got very damp. In the chilly air and steady rain, I photographed these watery wintery worlds along Piney Woods Church Road.
Day 355, and I pause to acknowledge the Winter Solstice. I had planned to begin my project on this very day in 2013, but ended up postponing it to begin instead with the first of the year. Having nearly completed my round of the seasons, I appreciate the arbitrary nature of our Western calendar, and am delighted to say that my next project (more about that on January 1st) will begin with the Spring Equinox of 2015, rather than the start of a particular month. This is the shortest day, and as I type this, it has already grown dark though not yet 6 pm Eastern Time. Tomorrow, the days will grow longer once again. On the occasion of this turning of the year, I offer these two images of turning tendrils, taken on today’s ramble through the dreary gray along Piney Woods Church Road.
Some much-welcomed rain showers arrived overnight, and the air felt moist and full of promise as I set out on my afternoon exploration of Piney Woods Church Road today. The water that had covered the leaves and branches of the roadside plants had mostly dried up, except for individual tiny droplets lingering on the tips of a loblolly pine sapling. I had tried photographing them before, with little success. Today’s efforts were rewarded by the photograph below.
Along the verge of Piney Woods Church Road, a water oak sapling, illuminated by the morning light, displays leaves of vibrant green, yellow, orange, and brown.
As winter approaches and the Piney Woods Church Road landscape becomes more sere and barren, I begin to notice the naked branches of the trees and bare tendrils of the vines so much more. Today I found yet another enticing tendril image, a flourish of woody muscadine on a cold and cloudy mid-December afternoon.
Every so often on my daily rambles, I encounter shapes in nature — usually leaves — that evoke some other image, such as an animal or human figure. This happened many months ago, when I photographed a dark image that I titled, at my wife Valerie’s recommendation, “Strange Leaf”. And today, as the seasons have swung back around into the months of shriveled, brown leaves, it has happened again. Today I offer two such images, which I am calling “Leaf Puppets”. The first is a pair of dried wisteria leaves evocative of human figures, both suspended by their stems along the road bank. The second is a nearby sweetgum leaf, conjuring in my mind an image of a swan in flight. If you do not imagine the same, that is OK, too. The folds of the leaves and the patterns of light and dark, focus and blur, are inviting by themselves.
This time of year, the green leaves stand out along Piney Woods Church Road, when most every plant has withered to some shade of buff brown. In this case, the plant is likely Japanese honeysuckle — a truly nasty invasive that is slowly choking my (former) flower garden and shrubs. Still, I find this single leaf, illuminated by afternoon sunlight, entrancing. I nearly overlooked it completely — I took just two photos of it, one of which was out of focus. I had every intention of choosing to highlight something else from my walk. But reviewing the images at home now, this is the one that most captivates me from my daily journey.
