Symplocarpus foetidus one of the first flowers of spring in eastern North America.
Every spring since I began photographing wildflowers I seek out the erotic skunk cabbage in the spring seep behind my home.
The shapes and colors are mesmerizing, reminding me of modernism art.
Diminutive in stature
Hidden beneath leaves and snow
Breaking free from Gaia’s icy grip hoping to bask in sol’s warming rays
Sun and color collide
It began as dusk descended, as fine as the sand on a crescent beach
The light from passing cars reflected their crystalline structure
These wind-blown diamonds struck my cheeks It felt as though a thousand pins had assaulted me
Soon the wind died and the snow crystals were attracted to one another as the north and south poles of a magnet
They cascaded bumping into one another combining to create snowflakes
The night was no longer dark – White enveloped the landscape
I awoke to a quiet stillness
A Halloween harbinger
Spinning a web in darkness
Caught in my hair
___Happy Halloween Happy Halloween Happy Halloween Happy Halloween ___
I’ve walked past this farm more than a hundred times…
During those early walks when I looked inside the abandoned barn I could clearly see chairs and broken piping
Now all I see is the Earth taking back what was once hers.
I watch as the barn is slowly being consumed by vines of grape and poison ivy
and wonder how long it will be until this place is no longer exists even in memories…
The garden has become familiar.
I know it’s rock walls, the plants who have made it their home.
I’ve shared it’s life, death and rebirth cycles.
Today I walked beyond it’s boundaries and this is what I saw…
A local CSA, Terra Fauna, had planted a plot of Indian corn. Neighbors respect one another and the corn is waiting to be harvested.
Further down the road is the sheep farm. Lambs born this past February and March reach out for freshly cut hay.
Across the street, next to the homestead,
a cow rests in the barn.
Scattered around the property are remnants of farm implements.
Continuing on I pass the silos of a dairy farm. They and the milk tank are all that remain of a once vibrant local industry.
As I make the turn onto Hillside I look back upon the dairy farm
and pass homes decorated for Halloween.
My last turn onto Valley View brings my home into view. Once again I will work in the gardens and continue to co-create with Gaia.
Look closely and see what is often overlooked…
Three simple eyes that guide a bee to its nest
Feet with suction cups that allow security when holding tightly to a leaf
A discarded skin that nourishes the body
A covering that allows flight
Hundreds of individual petals that make up a whole
Sweeping vistas may be astounding but let us never ignore the beauty in the often overlooked