My job requires me to work a month or two in advance, so I start thinking about the upcoming seasons well before they actually arrive. This time last year, I was working on the October schedule, and so I had fall and Halloween and pumpkins and sweaters on my mind. This year I’m still working on the September schedule, but I can feel the cool winds of change coming up behind me!
It’s beginning to look
a lot like Christmas!
Tomorrow I'm going to help paint at my parent's new house on The Rivah, which is where I took this picture. Whenever I think of that house now, this is the picture that pops into my head. What I see is a plant whose seeds are attached to fluffy white sails that will eventually carry them...I don't know where. But in this moment, they were busy providing a soft focus for rather severe looking stems. What I think of is feathers and butterfly kisses and whispers and all things soft.
Observe how all things
are continually being born of change.
Whatever is, is in some sense
the seed of what is to emerge from it.
– Marcus Aurelius
This is a shot from the screened porch in my parent's back yard. What I see is just trees and sky, but I like the interesting effect the screen had on the light. What I think is that the ordinary doesn't have to be just ordinary. It's all in how you view it.
Every man takes the limits
of his own field of vision
for the limits of the world.
– Arthur Schopenhauer
This is a very old picture of a barn that fell apart long ago. What I see is a wall that's as much hole as wood and bales of hay that appear to be moldering on the floor. What I think is how like memory this is, a snapshot of things that no longer exist, imperfect, color faded, and encompassing so much less than what I'd like to see after all these years.
How we remember,
what we remember,
and why we remember
form the most personal map
of our individuality.
– Christina Baldwin
Coming in from a walk one afternoon, I reached in to pull the door open and touched something small and fuzzy. I immediately knew it was the scary creature who'd been flitting around my light fixture all morning. What I see is a little guy who I wouldn't want to cross. What I think is that we were equally afraid of each another.
Size doesn’t matter,
neither in our capacity for fear,
nor in our ability
to put the fear in others.
My cell phone camera did interesting things with the sun, and it shows up here as waves of light across the photo. What I see is a brown field and open sky. What I think of is all the stages this land goes through in a year, from this winter brown, to knee-high green and luscious growth, to golden-green stalks of corn that slowly peak and fade into pale sheaths of tan that are cut down and left to winter brown.
Each thing is of like form from everlasting
and comes round again in its cycle.
– Marcus Aurelius
Last week, the weather was so beautiful that I was compelled to take pictures (on my phone, sorry) of my commute home. This week I'll share them with you. What I see here is a fabulous, large, awesomely reflective and wonderfully splash-worthy puddle that typically lasts for a few days after each rain. Beyond the tracks, a few old buildings gather around what must have been a train stop at one time. What I think is it would be a great treat to see those buildings as they once were, and wouldn't I just love to go exploring in that boarded up old store.
The world is mud-luscious
– E. E. Cummings