The curves and lines in this image have been intriguing me since I captured it on Friday.
What keeps me looking is the contrast between the long clean lines that have been so carefully drawn in this garden, and the rough 'imperfect' lines and curves of the tree and its shadow. The intersection of these lines— their juxtaposition— provokes all sorts of thoughts for me.
I wonder what it suggests to you?
Yesterday, walking in Galiano's Heritage Forest, my eye was drawn to the shapes of the trees— the shapes that will soon be hidden by the profusion of leaves.
Mixed with the evergreens are are are several willow trees of varying kinds, along the main path. They’ve been there, as their size indicates, for years and years, but it wasn’t til yesterday that the light caught them in a certain way, and I ’noticed’ them. They are, to me, absolutely beautiful— the stature of the tree as a whole, and the detail of the slender curves…
I will likely post several more photos of these and other trees in the days ahead, either here or on my Curious Spectacles Facebook page which you can find here.
Maybe because we've waited so long for spring this year, or maybe its just that these wonders are more precious with each passing year, but surely the delicate beauty of the huckleberry buds opening has never been quite so breathtakingly beautiful to me.
Watching a fishboat depart from the sheltered waters of Whaler Bay in the early morning, with a strong NW wind, and beneath a rather ominous looking sky, reminds me how precarious every venture is. Again the Breton Fisherman's prayer seems apt, not only for those who literally go to the sea in ships, but for us all: Dear God, be good to me for the sea is so large, and my boat is so small.
I took several photos while walking in Bellhouse Park a few days ago. But it was this one that I found myself drawn to.
There's something in the image that touches me. Maybe its the way the two trees lean together— the tall slender one, and the one that's broken...
Walking on the island's shores is like walking in a gallery filled with sculptures masterfully wrought and generously offered for all to enjoy. Here are a few glimpses of yesterday's meandering through the gallery.
At first when I noticed one of my roses nodding its head, I was disappointed to miss seeing the glory of it's opening blossom, but after a closer look, it occurred to me that perhaps it was a good gift that the rose was offering: the display of the detail and texture of its oft ignored side.
The gentle curve, the delicate shading of the petals, the texture of the sepals with their furred edge... I wouldn't have noticed had I been distracted by a more ordinary perspective. This other side of the rose was intriguing, and stunning in its simple beauty.
Have you been similarly surprised by the beauty of looking at something from a different angle?
During my school days, our Headmistress would often urge us to notice what's around us saying, 'Even the thorn bush by the wayside is ablaze with the glory of God.' I've come to appreciate over the years that she was absolutely right.
Today I was reminded of this as I saw, not a 'thorn bush' but an ordinary drainage ditch, 'blazing' with beauty: colour, texture and pattern.
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I have intentionally adjusted the photo above with texture and colour as I contemplated the beauty on display. The red colours in the weeds to the right were actually there, and brighter. I've muted them so as not to 'take over' the image as a whole. It's the raindrop circles that particularly entranced me— the way they refracted and reflected the light.
When the sun came out after a morning of heavy rain, the light in the forest was dramatic. Intense and beautiful— light and shadow; texture and pattern; colours and hues.
glimpses of the extraordinary amidst an ordinary day