Daily Archives: November 1, 2012

Starlings

Starlings

Starlings

Are you a fan of starlings? Or do you see them as a curse, a thorn in the farmers’ side? Randy Stonehill, one of my favorite singers, used them as a metaphor for those we prefer not to see. “She was sitting on a curb by the Seven Eleven.” There are songs that make me laugh. There are songs that make me sing. This is a song that can make me cry. Not a comfortable song, but very beautiful, somewhat like the starlings.

Say a prayer for the starlings
A hot, dry wind beats their ragged wings
Have a thought for the starlings
No one ever listens to the songs they sing
Say a prayer for the starlings
There’s no welcome for them anywhere
Leave some crumbs for the starlings
They say that Winter will be cold this year

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Tree Reflection

Tree Reflection

Tree Reflection

I love reflections. I think it’s partly because I love the colors and the textures of the surface of moving water. Water that is animated, whether by wind or by gravity creates a surface that turns otherwise mundane objects into beautiful patters. Beautiful to me, anyway. Sometimes it is the motion itself that I love and capturing that in a still photograph is tricky. In this case I think it works. I especially like that you can see ripples from drops of rain among the other ripples.

This is a flood control pond north of Gude Drive between Key West and Research Blvd. It is near where I have walked many times but for some reason I’ve never been this side of Gude. It’s pretty overgrown with brambles, which means it isn’t as accessible as some places but there are things to be seen that might make it worth the effort from time to time.

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Walnuts and Leaves

Walnuts and Leaves

Walnuts and Leaves

I know I’ve recently posted a picture of black walnuts but I was out taking pictures and came across another tree that had just dropped most of its nuts. Not too surprisingly I took pictures of them on the ground.

I find it interesting that there are certain memories that are indelibly recorded in our minds and they are released by particular sights, sounds, and above all smells. The smell of the flesh of black walnuts is one that brings me back to my childhood. Blessed is he whose indelible memories are good ones.

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