the end of thistle season

behind the hedge

Sunday

from sun to rain

Sunday

at the gate

art and sky and winter warm

It was the color of the sky that drew me out there in the first place.  The strange rosy glow amidst the winter warm.  Such a winter we are having.  What there is for snow lays rotting like carrion.  There is isn't even rain.

I wanted to look through the lens and see the farm differently.  See the winter ground peacefully sleeping.  But when I looked, it was not sleeping it was dead.  It is hard to believe there is so much land trapped here in the city like this.

I spent the morning binding up fences and closing gates.  Wrapping up long hoses and raking the fallen leaves as if I am on the first side of winter, not the last. 

summer