Orion jumps from the roof under a blinding sky. Until Orion, I never saw anyone rush with such joy into the blue.
A glorious moon crowns the tree disputed by crows and egrets.
A moment in the history of Zoya, appropriately framed by Paul Klee and Ron Brown. A tiny hand to play with.
A last touch for "Night Birds."
detail from "Night Birds."
This weekend there was time in the pool, and roasting of marshmallows. Mostly resting, thinking and tidying up, inside and out. Then floating on the water at sunset, watching the light change and not thinking at all. I have a familiar sense of anticipation. It's subtle, but distinct and I've learned to heed it. It could be the changing weather, or it could be a new wave of creativity. Getting things in order feels right, as always.
I weed out the superfluous, and care for the things that aren't. Whatever might be coming, I'll be rested and the path will be a little clearer. If it's a quiet something, I want to hear it.