Another Moonrise

These dark photos -- I know -- my old cell phone's camera never does the moon justice, but it hasn't stopped me from trying when the sky is roiling with drama and the lunar orb is peeking in every window and won't be ignored.

Ah  -- I love this photo anyway.  I also took a short video, and a shot of the moon setting in our backyard this morning a mere 9 hours from this photo.  Since videos haven't shown very well in the blogger format, I shared it on my Instagram:  @midlifelight -- take a peek if you like.

Moon Shadow, Moon Shadow

Half an hour earlier than expected, a darkness outside was perceptible.  I was surprised to see through the glasses that the moon had already begun to occlude the sun.  I didn't use the glasses much, only to check the progress of the eclipse.  The atmospheric changes of my little spot in the world were much more interesting. Very quickly, reality seemed to slip off kilter in a way that is difficult to explain.  The light was just . . . wrong.  The strangeness and darkness of our space aren't adequately conveyed in my photos.  There was always a slight sliver of sun for us, so we were never able to see stars, but crickets and light-sensing landscape lighting noticed the change.  The hot sun became cool and comfortable, without a breath of breeze.

I almost forgot to look for these crescent-shaped shadows. I'm glad I stumbled upon them.

It defies logic that beams of light peeking through a leafy shroud would present in these perfect eclipse-shaped patterns, but these unfiltered photos are proof.

And then it was over.

Fullness

The canopy thickens.

Raison d'Etre

Truly, a view like this is the reason for a sunroof.

Looking Up in the Land of Gump

Boughs of ancient Savannah live oaks festooned with Spanish moss cocoon those who lay in eternal rest at our feet.

Rising

In the very early quiet, huddled over a steamy black mug, I was surprised by lateral rays through the trees, and the room was suddenly filled with gold.  Sunrises never get old, but I forget to look for them.  I was lucky today.

In Like a Lion, Out Like a Lion

The saying goes something like this,

"March comes in like a lion, but goes out like a lamb."

This year, March has been stormy from beginning to end.  This view of my forest sky may look the same to you, but it doesn't to me.  I see all the large missing pieces that now lay upon the forest floor from ravages of recent winds.  I remember the speed of the clouds skittering across the sky in this moment.  I see the new life bursting forth, despite nature's dramatic curation.

After the Storm

In a sudden storm last night, the wind howled, branches battered the roof and thunder shook the house.

This morning brought the gift of this sunrise.

Blooming

Fleeting, lacey blossoms recall an earlier chapter.  Working, walking, living amongst a sea of pale petals by the Tidal Basin each Spring was one of many wonders from my time in the city.  Only in retrospect is the value and significance of those youthful moments revealed.

Framing

A full composition:  evergreen wax ligustrum is juxtaposed with indigenous branches beyond.

Looking upward never disappoints.

Sunbeam

Though Spring has come, the sun is still at a late Winter angle, peeking through from the side as I remember to look up.

Budding

Three weeks early, it seems the change of seasons is upon us.

The ash trees keep their old leaves all winter, but soon they'll begin to drop as the fresh green supplants them.

Ellie senses the coming change.

Reflection

At the Wooky Hole today I was trying to catch fish (in a photo).  Instead, I caught the sky and treetops.

As above, so below.

Remembering to Look Up

With blinders on, circumstances overwhelm.
One runs into the next.
Some resolve, some persist.
Realities flip.
We question our grasp.
Outside of this, looking back,
will we remember what it was about?
Does it matter, or is the point in the struggle?
Looking up, a flash of perspective soothes,
if only for a moment.

Inspired

This scrappy dogwood was very old when we moved here seventeen years ago.  We were advised to remove it because of structural damage but I was taken by its stalwart spirit.  Transfigured by trauma, it persists and reaches, still, for the light.

A Fresh Perspective

When we look up, our view is different and it seems that anything is possible.