Small Consolation for Atmospheric Brutality

This is one of my upstairs windows, the most artistic one of the bunch in my opinion. Whenever the temperature falls way down in the single digits (Fahrenheit) the various window panes respond by covering themselves with captivating patterns of frost. I have noticed that irregularities in old glass tend to create certain themes in the frost design. This particular window pane usually builds a wintery scene centering around a pine tree of ice crystals. So I was stunned the other morning to find this delightful ice mural of waves cascading beneath a stormy sunrise. (If you turn the photo upside down I think you'll see a pile of gingko leaves floating above some...some...yeah, I don't know what the rest of the image could be. Let's stick with the wave theory.)

Sunday Evening Project

This looks just a tad dangerous to me--I mean, check out the way that stepladder is leaning haphazardly against the maybe-in-need-of-repair bricks of that chimney. I know I definitely did not contribute to the safety of the situation by driving by three times before stopping to roll down my window, zoom in and snap several photos. Then I waved and drove away. I think I kind of scared him But hey, hopefully I gave Mr. I'll Be Up On The Roof If You Need Me something to talk about at dinner that night.

I mean, besides his broken leg...which he didn't get because of me, he shouldn't have been up there balancing so precariously in the first place. Right?

I'm babbling. I like this image. All black silhouette and pale sky with the ladder still managing to show its yellowness. Go, ladder!

Bobo

What do you think of this guy? He's been a constant in my world since we moved into this house eight years ago. I often lean against the counter in the bathroom and contemplate his cheerful doorknob-y face as I brush my teeth. Once in awhile I'll reach over and adjust his deadbolt smile a little bit, maybe making him appear more quizzical or a bit uncertain (what I really should do, of course, is wipe his face more often). In eight years, though, I never thought to mention him to anyone else in the family. I did take a photo of him one slow, housebound day in January. I didn't like the way the flash illuminated his nose--I left the photo on my hard drive and forgot about it. Then two weeks ago a little notice popped into view on Flickr, for a group called "Facial Impressions". The creators of the group were collecting faces--faces found or accidentally created or just noticed. Anywhere, they said: In nature, or out on the street, or maybe in your bathroom. I immediately thought of Bobo, retrieved him from hard disc obscurity and posted him to the group.

He's done quite well there, garnering several dozen views and some appreciative comments. He's even been added as a "favorite" meaning there are some people out there who want to make sure they always know where to find Bobo's shiny comical face.

(I did finally think to ask around, find out if anyone else in the family had the same friendly relationship with our doorknob guy. No one knew what in the hell I was talking about.)

Ivy Vines

I know I may be alone on this one but I really love these bare ivy vines crawling all over this sort of crappy pink stucco building. They look so freaky yet so organic, and so much like everything else that is weird. Like the seaweed underwater that grabs at your legs or giant basement cobwebs that stick to your hands and face or maybe some terrifying large system of veins and capillaries. Nature is so repetive, isn't it?

Red Dogwood Branches, Still Growing

I went for a walk in the woods yesterday, hoping to get a photo of a Great Horned Owl who allegedly spends a lot of time in a certain tree. Apparently he had forsaken his old stomping grounds as there was no sign of any owl activity at all. But maybe I'll catch him another time! Meanwhile, I was more than happy to settle for a pleasantly invigorating tramp through the snow. I always love birdhouses so when we approached this one I swung my camera up to my eye to get a nice shot. Except I clicked too soon and got these handsome reddish branches instead. Although I reshot and actually have a focused photo of the (Purple Martin's?) house, I like the one above better. After all, these branches are here, slugging it out through Minnesota's tough winter months. Is there even anyone home at the Martins?

Time to Eat

I really like this photo of a female cardinal caught with a large seed in her mouth. It's almost the same dimension as her eyeball, isn't it? Cardinals are such lovely colorful birds and I am happy to provide them with food during the long dark winter months. But dang. It's getting a little freaky in my backyard. Yesterday I glanced out the kitchen window and as usual there was a cardinal sitting on the bird feeder, busy excavating black sunflower seeds, and one picking around on the snow beneath the feeder, catching the good fall-off. But the odd thing was--the bushes all around the yard were filled with cardinals. Bright red, pale drab, red with brownish wings--there they all were, more than I could count, all quietly watching their species mate enjoy himself. Then, swoop! Another cardinal's turn! And so it went--quiet observing, then sudden flight. Quiet observing, sudden flight.

Guess word is out on the sweet new platform James built onto the feeder.

Miracles

Look at how white the snow is and how bare the branches are on this huge oak tree. It's a miracle, right? A beautiful, beautiful, miracle of WINTER. You want to hear about another miracle of winter? Girl Scout cookies. Just when you think you've almost made it to spring and everything is going to be all right, the dozen or so boxes of Thin Mints and Do-Si-Do's and Samoas get delivered right to your front door. And just look at you! Look at how helplessly you watch your pale, trembling hands rip open a box of Thin Mints. Marvel at how quickly you've torn into an entire sleeve of the weird minty chocolate crackers. Crunched them up! Gone. Gone. Gone. Phew.

Now shake the crumbs off your sweater. And be deeply grateful there wasn't a camera trained on you as you gobbled so desperately.

Blue Angel (Lake Street Mural # 77)

I spied this this beautifully rendered mural while driving east on Lake Street last week. I don't know the context or the history but I am totally smitten with the blues and lavenders. On a more irreverant note I will add that I like how this starving orphan-type child seems to be reaching hungrily for the scabs of peeling paint. (Oh, don't you worry! I just know that winged shiksa has a mayonnaise sandwich tucked in a pocket of her giant nightie.)