I've been reading Blue Mind, a book about the ways being on or near water can reduce stress and encourage healing. Given the gray skies of a northern Indiana winter, this seemed an appropriate time to look back at the photo archive for images of blue water and blue skies, for some glimpses of healing blue. Use them as a springboard into your own memories and imaginings of times by water, or under a sunny sky. 
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Early this week it snowed and I discovered that tulip poplars must be the original snow cone. Wednesday morning there was freezing fog, leaving everything transformed by hoarfrost. I was hosting a group when the sun came out, so I have visual memories rather than photos. Everything was frosty white and sparkling in the sun. The trees to the south of us had bright spots of light as well, perhaps caused by sun glinting off ice. And for awhile the air itself sparkled with ice crystals. By noon most of the hoarfrost was gone, but a stretch of the prairie plantings was still covered with it, thanks to the shade of nearby pines. I was able to get some close up shots of the frosty coating. 
November saw some early flakes and even when snow wasn't on the ground, some of the plants I found had a snowy look. December was milder, with an occasional glorious blue-sky day, to be enjoyed along the millrace. And there some beautiful morning skies, even if the morning color hinted at clouds to follow. 
There may be a polar vortex and frigid temperatures outside, but there are summer pictures to look at inside! Abundance was the word for July and August -- tomatoes in blossom or ripe, a well-pollenated bee, and the colorful glory of daylilies.(Or maybe this daylily was anticipating winter -- the stamen look like they are warming themselves at the fire.) Later there was the intricate design of dragonfly wings, and the wonders of the monarch life cycle. 
May brought windflowers under the front yard bushes, and the first Great Lakes Mennonite Spiritual Directors retreat, the culmination of a year's planning. Early dandelions were already going to seed (and note the painting on the wall where the gathering of spiritual directors is). John and I had a week in Edmonton to help with the sale and his parents' move from the family home of forty-plus years. June brought sunshine, dewdrops, blooming flowers and trips to the Calendar Garden to take delight in the abundance there. 
Snow still prevailed as March began, now interspersed with thaws that gave us glimpses of snowdrops. One melting snow mound in mid-March revealed a newspaper buried in January. The plastic bag kept it dry, and its headline was still quite appropriate. A record setting winter indeed. In April, the woods and marsh by the dam still had plenty of brown, but also the calls of returning red-wing blackbirds, a sure sign of spring. It was a special delight to discover spring flowers and green new leaves pushing up through the mat of old leaves. 
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My approach to contemplative photography --
"Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it." Mary Oliver in "Sometimes" Archives
August 2020
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