With the new month comes a new postcard. Leaves always fascinate me. Not in their collective but in their individuality (a collection of portraits of leaves is in my recent 52/4 journal). This one caught my eye. Let me know if you want to get a postcard of it.
A warm fall deprived us the season’s flaming reds, oranges, and yellows. Most leaves just turned brown and fell to the ground. The frost this morning seemed to be mocking me.
With the new month comes a new postcard. This month I was inspired by the detritus I found on a local walk and recollections of Penn’s portraits of cigarettes. Let me know if you want to receive a postcard.
A selection of cigarette butts from a local “nature trail.” I look forward to a day when the cigarette butt goes the way of the pulltab.
With the new month comes a new postcard. This month I imagined I was in a city that had lovely sidewalk cafes and a rich pedestrian culture. One can dream. Let me know if you want me to send you a postcard.
The chair beckons, encouraging me to linger for a moment. Nobody is around. Perhaps I will.
With the new month comes a new postcard. For this month I wandered over to the local park, which had recently renovated the tennis court, now used primarily by four retired women to play pickleball. Let me know if you want a copy.
On any given afternoon the sounds of people shooting basketballs, playing softball, and hitting tennis balls echo through the park. Ah summer.
With the new month comes a new postcard. For this month I tried to produce one photograph each day of something on my table. Some of those photos were better than others. Some more peaceful. Let me know if you want a copy.
A still life can encourage us to pause and relax. Forget for a moment the chaos of everyday life and just sit still, as the name implies.
With the new month comes a new postcard. February was a proper winter month, new snow almost every week. Stark and cold are excellent descriptors for the past month. Let me know if you want a copy.
How long, I wondered, until the noise and chaos of the game disrupt the silence? Not long enough.
With the new month comes a new postcard. This month’s postcard comes from a local state park. Winter seemed to demand black and white. Let me know if you want a copy.
Just days later the freezing temperatures and snow would come. But this morning I enjoyed the mild weather and the lovely falls.
With the new month comes a new postcard. This month’s postcard comes from much closer to home. A maple I pass on my walk to and from work seemed to defy the monochrome of the world. Let me know if you want a copy.
The last moments of red burn brightly in the otherwise monochrome world of early winter. By now even this color has faded to dark browns and fallen to the ground.
With the new month comes a new postcard. This month’s postcard comes from a moment when I paused in the plains of eastern Colorado to appreciate the moment. Let me know if you want a copy.
The sun burst through the clouds for just a moment in defiance of the howling wind and rain, causing the grasses exploded in amber. Moments later, rain and snow returned, daring me to linger.
With the new month comes a new postcard. This month’s postcard comes from a local park where I spent much of my childhood. If you want a copy, let me know.
How many times as kids were we chased off these bowling greens? More often, I am sure, than they were ever used by actual bowlers.