Back to the Basics

Sometimes I forget how obsession started.

And then something like this happens:

stillness.

What Light Does

in early morning,

a sunny morning, 

one of the first 

so early 

in a long time, 

makes magic.

Light and Shadow

1.
In art history I learned about chiaroscuro, the art of making something two-dimensional three-dimensional through the play of light and shadow. I have seen chiaroscuro at work. I have even been as close to a DaVinci drawing as I am to my computer screen, without intervening glass.

2.
Today, walking at Lake Dimmick, I moved from light patches into shadowed patches along a sinuous path, noting on the ground (where I looked for fear of stumps, roots, snakes) the sudden fluttering of a butterfly or sailing of dragonfly, recognizing them by their shadows.

3.
I found myself thinking about other images -- decisions that weigh, family losses, friends' crises, my own existential pondering (something that has shadowed my life for as long as I can remember) -- while I walked, lost in light too bright to focus and in shadow too dark to see the path's end.

4.
Shadow and light: sometimes a beautiful balance.

Holy Cow!

What a difference a telezoom makes! In only twenty minutes before a storm, I can see that my Odonate life is changing. What a difference distance can make.

 Thanks to my friends CP and WS for pushing me to do it.




Welcome, Lumix!

Here's My Answer

The University entomologist and I finally met.

I said, "You're the fellow I've been emailing!"

He said, "I heard you worked here."

I said, "I am indeed the obsessed woman."

He asked, "Why do you walk Lake Cheston every day?  Do you have a dog?"

"Not I," I responded.  "I walk because I don't want to miss anything."

Had I not walked today, for instance, I would have missed the evidence of someone else's meal: the shell of an abdomen, from which the interior had been mined, and the wings, separated, caught in the grass, dampened by the dew.  No head.  The part eaten first.

The remains of a Widow Skimmer, the chaff of a beautiful flyer grounded and unwinged.  I would not have wanted to miss this memento mori.

Remember me.

How could I forget?  And why would I?