summer’s daydreams, poetry
written on feathers.
In December, freezing rain brought widespread power outages; the damage to trees, especially the oaks, epitomized a brutal side of nature. A lesser storm iced the roads again this week, while another brief round may arrive tomorrow.
There’s no such thing as bad weather, just soft people. —Bill Bowerman
The well-worn floors at Thompson’s Mills are usually overlooked by visitors, but there are wonderful designs and stories to be found on them. These monochromatic examples were taken earlier this week.
“There are horrible people who, instead of solving a problem, tangle it up and make it harder to solve for anyone who wants to deal with it. Whoever does not know how to hit the nail on the head should be asked not to hit it at all.” —Friedrich Nietzsche
“We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking we used when we created them.” —Alfred Einstein
The oak leaves piling up in our yard are dry, curled like paper scrolls; they make a slight scratching sound when they land. As you see from my latest postings, they’re my subjects of choice now—there are limitless combinations and compositions to search out, but soon (very soon) I’ll move on to something else, cross my fingers the mower starts without argument, and then this part of autumn will be fertilizer.
In the meantime, here’s a small gallery of you-know-what.
I met new friends at Thompson’s Mills today, and as they prowled the building for visual treasure I also struck gold in an upstairs corner, where the light is most often marginal.