January 2: Bird-stalking and a leaf

I went out this evening to stalk birds in the front yard. Of course when I walked out, the doves whistled away and the flitting birds flitted off and everything went quiet for awhile. But I sat down and settled my back against an oak at the bottom of the yard, and in a couple of minutes the birds started returning -- sparrows first, then cardinals and nuthatch, and finally the doves. It was that time of day in the middle of winter when the sun is well on in its short march across the horizon, the light is bright but a bit watery and it makes the colors and shadows stark. It's lovely for being itself.

All of the photos I was taking of the birds were turning out to be blah, though, so eventually I moved up closer to the birdfeeder, behind some shrubs I hoped would screen me. It was a long wait before I realized the birds weren't buying it. They knew I was there and didn't want to risk coming back around.

For a photography session, it could have been disappointing, but there's always something. After a minute or so I noticed the tip of an odd-pinnate leaf hanging down from the shrub I was hiding in. One leaflet was red and dying the others were still green, and there was the barest thread of spiderweb clinging to them. The way they glowed, backlit by the sun, was a jewel in the day.

January 3: Woods pond

Since the tornadoes blew through on New Year's Eve, the nights have been colder. The outdoor animals' water freezes, and the ponds have crystals forming around the edges. A few places on the shady dirt road where water is continually trickling across, the pebbles have a crust of ice.

I went walking yesterday with my dad and the dogs, and we explored a little behind the cabin at the top of the hill. There's a terraced area that looks like it might have once been used for hill-gardening, and it leads down to a pretty little pond.



The air was still and bright and the water reflected the trees perfectly.