This sight stopped me in my tracks today: pink honeysuckle climbing and blooming all the way up an anchor cable of a power pole. Sunlit against the shadows and fir trees, with fragments of blue sky visible through the spaces— the beauty and colour invited standing at the roadside, looking, and capturing a photo (or three).
So often honeysuckle clings to the trunk of a tree, choking its life from it, but this one’s found a place to thrive and bloom, doing no harm at all. And it has transformed the harsh hard lines of the anchor cable into a striking beauty.
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.
Yesterday we had a short reprieve between storms: the sun shone, the wind dropped and the sea settled to a mirror calm. Mt. Baker glowed on the far side of the Salish Sea.
But best of all is the sweep of clouds, with the small pale moon visible beyond them, to the left of centre frame.
The days begin with a walk to Flagpole Point before breakfast.
In part it is a necessity, to walk the dog, but equally important is that this outing provides me a chance to appreciate the uniqueness of each morning. Though it is the same place, the variation is infinite: light, colour and texture in differing combinations.
The rising sun’s position is constantly shifting with the seasons, tides varying with moon-phase, wind and weather, clouds, fog, rain, or clear… Add to this, the cast of birds and small animals. I never know just what the morning jaunt will offer: kingfishers, herons, otters, harlequins, eagles, mink, seals…
It has long been my habit to record these first glimpses of the day there with a few photos, usually just on my iPhone, but sometimes with my ‘big’ camera. Recently it occurred to me to share some of my morning glimpses with others, so I created a Flickr Album Mornings at Flagpole Point which you can view here.
My aim is to post one a day. Sometimes, like yesterday when we had a power outage I couldn’t post. There are bound to be other missed days here and there, but mostly it’ll be a daily photo.
Thanks so much for enjoying these glimpses of the world with me.
What can be found in the deserts of the Negev, in Antarctica, the Isle of Skye, Germany, India…and Galiano Island?
Here on Galiano Island our coast is predominantly sandstone, and features amazing tafoni from north to south. In all its spectacular shapes, hollows, lacework and lattice, it provides endless fascination as the light plays on it, highlighting its contours and patterns. The photo here (above) was taken on our own flagpole point, and I’ve included a gallery below with several other photos I’ve posted over the past while.
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?
glimpses of the extraordinary amidst an ordinary day