Our winter of obscura moves slowly forward, though it may not feel like it. We are somewhere near the saddest day of the year, but not wanting to dwell or get stuck in such muck, I’m not going to look it up to determine certainty. This is not the winter for that. We live in the haze; we honor the abstract. This post, and its accompanying visuals, will attest to that.
A wave crashing its sudsy body across the shore.
A ghost gradually assuming plasma form.
A microcosmic take on the edges of a crepe, more torn and fringed than our naked eye could ever make out.
Or the mesmerizing motions of a car wash.
Life is beauty, and beauty’s where you find it.
Outside, I watch a blue jay and a squirrel make their way through the winter. The squirrel has greater difficulty in getting across the yard – all that snow and ice – while the blue jay just flits and flies above the wintry wreckage. There is beauty there too. In the winter…
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