Snow settles softly
on grass
on trees
on fenceposts
nestles in the foliage
red green yellow leaves cup it in their palms
first snow
silent snow
god’s hush descending to earth
Snow settles softly
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First snow
It snowed yesterday morning. It wasn’t exactly the very first snowfall of the season—not the first snowflakes, anyway—but it was the first to accumulate. It also was the first on a weekday and during rush hour. It put me in a grumpy mood walking out of my house; there was nothing I wanted less than to drive to work with snow falling.
By the time I was halfway to my destination, I felt differently. It was an absolutely lovely winterland/wonderland. All of the trees and bushes were coated in snow, but their still-clinging leaves peaked through. Continue reading
Halloween in the rearview mirror
As promised and predicted, with Halloween over I am watching the local wildlife have its way with my pumpkin. That’s my squash in the photo above. Squirrels were trying to take away pieces of it within an hour of its arrival on our front porch on Halloween, and I really wasn’t able to protect it for long. Thankfully, they started by expanding one ear into a gaping hole—in other words, a part of the carving that faced to the side. But now…just look at it. I came home from running errands today and discovered that it had been dragged all the way off the porch to the sidewalk and tucked partially in the garden foliage. I righted it and moved it fully into the foliage, then left it to rot and continue providing food for critters. Continue reading
Ghosts and goblins and the slashing of squash
It’s that time of year, when ghosts and goblins and princesses and ninjas roam our neighborhoods, knocking on doors and taking away our candy. We get precious few trick-or-treaters where I live—largely hemmed in by an expressway on one side, major streets on two others, and a cul-de-sac to boot. So Halloween is often a disappointing affair marked by only a handful of visitors to our door. Continue reading
You can’t drive a house…
For many years when I was much younger, I used to have a postcard on my refrigerator showing a beautiful, old, rusty pickup truck sitting in front of a farmhouse. It reminded me of my childhood, but that wasn’t why I bought it. I bought it because of the title on the back: “You can’t drive a house, but you can sleep in your car.”
Among the many beautiful and oh-so-very-American sights you see driving historic Route 66 are old cars and trucks. Some are rusty, some decorated in graffiti, some buried up to their wheel rims in sand, some pristine and shining. I love them all and am hard pressed not to take photos of every one.
Here’s just a small sampling, and I’m not even including anything here from Cadillac Ranch, which warranted its own photo essay the other day. Continue reading
