After the leaves fell, and the temperatures fell, and the snow fell. . . here we are in winter. Just a skiff of snow, but enough for abstract patterns on the sidewalk. And enough to provide a backdrop for the delicate patterns of this dried plant growing on the edge of the prairie plantings on campus.
This past week has been a hinge time, with the landscape shifting from the copper, gold and bronze of autumn to a dusting of white and dropping temperatures. Here's photos from a golden day before the fall, with the fireworks of milkweed seeds bursting from the pod, the patterns of branches and dried seedpods, the calligraphy of ivy, and a remaining touch of summer purple, side-by-side with a golden grass seedhead.
1 Peter 1: 23-24
You have been born anew, not of perishable but of imperishable seed, through the word of the living and enduring God. For
All flesh is like grass
and all its glory like the flower of grass.
The grass withers
and the flower fails. . . .
But for a brief time, before the snow falls, the grasses of the prairie plantings on campus are full of glory, with a diversity of shape and seeds that intrigues me -- especially on a sunny day. Here are some photos of grasses from the past month as an antidote to a rainy November day. Plus one photo of a katydid nymph found in my garden last week -- note those long legs and longer antennae!
"Instructions for living a life:
Tell about it."
Mary Oliver in "Sometimes"
I've taken on a prayer practice of looking for the moments of light in each day, whether actual or metaphorical, and then writing or posting photos of what I find.