and this happened
and these, too!
I'd say spring is on the horizon!
Showing posts with label frog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label frog. Show all posts
Monday, February 29, 2016
Tuesday, March 17, 2015
Sunday, March 31, 2013
The Ephemeral Constancy of Is
A daily walk to a familiar place can be a sobering experience.
What was there once is likely not there next.
To wit: a pickerel frog yesterday, a spectacularly magenta plant today.
I had taken the frog for dead because I approached, slipped, stomped, sat, and leaned in. Close. Too close, I thought, for a living amphibian. But the frog never moved, the eye never blinked, no breath escaped. Today, I could find no evidence of frog -- no indentation in the mud or sign of struggle. No fleshy bit left behind after a scavenger's meal.
Today, I took the lake itself for unphotographable -- at least by me. Heavy mist became rain, then shifted into fog. Although I lay on wet grass and sand and aimed at tiny violet flowers sprouting up like a baby's giggles from no known source, I could not focus, or frame, or take a single snap worth saving. So I started back to the car, and that's when I saw the color, so brilliant as to be unbelieved. But magenta it was, and the photo is real.
Today, many of my friends and some of my family celebrated Easter, a time of new coming that returns every year, a reminder of the rising of a man into his godhood or of a god out of his manhood and of faith at the end of winter turning into spring.
Every day I walk into a new becoming, a reminder of risings and dyings, always turning from what was into what is, making what is what was in less time than I can type a single letter or think it.
Today, I celebrate the constancy of is.
What was there once is likely not there next.
To wit: a pickerel frog yesterday, a spectacularly magenta plant today.I had taken the frog for dead because I approached, slipped, stomped, sat, and leaned in. Close. Too close, I thought, for a living amphibian. But the frog never moved, the eye never blinked, no breath escaped. Today, I could find no evidence of frog -- no indentation in the mud or sign of struggle. No fleshy bit left behind after a scavenger's meal.
Today, I took the lake itself for unphotographable -- at least by me. Heavy mist became rain, then shifted into fog. Although I lay on wet grass and sand and aimed at tiny violet flowers sprouting up like a baby's giggles from no known source, I could not focus, or frame, or take a single snap worth saving. So I started back to the car, and that's when I saw the color, so brilliant as to be unbelieved. But magenta it was, and the photo is real.Today, many of my friends and some of my family celebrated Easter, a time of new coming that returns every year, a reminder of the rising of a man into his godhood or of a god out of his manhood and of faith at the end of winter turning into spring.
Every day I walk into a new becoming, a reminder of risings and dyings, always turning from what was into what is, making what is what was in less time than I can type a single letter or think it.
Today, I celebrate the constancy of is.
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