moon in southern sky
ms
nature paints soft pastel colors
the true artist
This mornings third quarter moon. Silently nature just keeps creating art!
An online journal sharing my interests in photography, nature, coffee life, journaling, fountain pens, spirituality and asking deep questions.
moon in southern sky
ms
nature paints soft pastel colors
the true artist
This mornings third quarter moon. Silently nature just keeps creating art!
cloudless eastern sky
ms
night departs new day begins
peaceful time of day
Not a cloud to be seen from the north to the south this morning. No wind. Very quiet and calming at the natural area. I find these experiences bring serenity and a peace to the world within me. Wish more of the world would start their day with moments like this. Time with nature.
predawn palette…
ms
awaiting the new day
cloudless sky
I awoke early, had quiet time, made a chai latte then headed to the nature area. Robins were singing their spring love songs. Magpies chatting atop a barren tree with buds just beginning to appear. A half dozen mule deer grazed along the Viewpoint Spur trail, ears always perked and alert. A couple cottontails chasing one another and making me laugh. It was rather quiet, one of my favorite sounds. It is overcast as a weather system moves our way bringing much needed moisture in the form of rain and snow over the next three days. Have a great day!
Think I’m gonna send Adobe a suggestion for them to add an automatic Remove Contrails button in Lightroom.
And a side note: Amanda Gorman rocks!
This image of the Seattle skyline was taken near Alki Beach along Harbor Avenue. It is an indication of the type of weather we enjoyed in Seattle. There is no beach where I’m standing. The sandy beach is farther west but the traffic and people was terrible. Enjoy your Saturday.
For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfill themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured. And every young farmboy knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest rings, that high on the mountains and in continuing danger the most indestructible, the strongest, the ideal trees grow.
Spent the day in Red Feather Lakes area yesterday. Helped a friend move some “stuff.” We stopped at the Potbelly Stove and ate on the way back into town. This was our view driving home about 3:00. It was a beautiful day. However, we now have a rain and snow mix that is to become 1-3 inches of snow. Such a change.