this tree thinks
of times past and times to come
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October
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- after a delightful dinner
- autumn
- snow-dappled leaf
- my pot runneth over
- the prospective buyers were 'on the fence'
- is that an angel
- crates
- pink symmetry
- does old stone love
- if you put your ear close
- on an autumn afternoon
- stoically shouldering the remains of the day
- the sun has fallen from the sky
- mr. and mrs bird
- pinwheels of color
- how do ya like
- through fingers of hydrangea
- moon of milk drops
- apple arithmetic
- sunlight parts curtains of condensation
- the bluest eye
- anya, anya, anya,
- brattleboro was blessed yesterday
- what fun to go traveling
- rumpity-tumpity-tump,
- mum's the word.
- poor little things
- how many of you have left
- in autumn, the light blows kisses to us as she sli...
- i glide, as light as air,
- theme day: mystery object
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October
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About Me
- brattcat
- One cat prowls around small town Vermont. ***************************************** All photos and text on this site are the property of Brattcat, Brattleboro Daily Photo. All rights reserved. No personal or commercial use, reproduction or republishing in any form is permitted without prior written consent.
12 comments:
Love that shot... hope you're not having to stack all that wood!
No fear! We all end up here... the woodpile.
That woodpile represents someone's hard work, eh? As usual, your 'simple' photo says so much more . . .
Great juxtaposition!
There is something sort of sad about this shot!
I beg to differ. I don't think this tree is thinking of times past and future, but is thinking of the present: "I am sure glad that I am not that pile of wood at my base."
The woodpile is a beautiful subject to photography, you did it very well!
Léia
I was walking down the street yesterday and smelled my first wood fire of the season. Hard to imagine that it is already that time.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust!
I have a sad feeling seeing this picture. If trees have a soul, they must be sad to see woodpiles..
It must be a sad tree, having already lost a limb.
Oh dear, how poignant.
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