This was the view from the inside of the car window this morning. Exquisite patterns of frost clusters were glued to every inch of the car! I turned on the heat and the window defrosters, but was almost sad to do so. It felt rather like erasing someone’s art work. Indeed, it IS someone’s artwork – God’s.
We had a pillar sunrise this morning, with the glorious ball of light pointing heavenward at its creator. (Unfortunately, it was not well captured by my camera.) It lasted only a few minutes, then abruptly changed a horizontal streak of yellow light.
I stood by the kitchen sliding door and looked out in amazement. It didn’t last long. Far too quickly, it went back to just white, white, white everywhere.
Tomorrow the snow is supposed to melt, which we are eager to see happen. It makes for lovely pictures, but miserable driving and an awful lot of shoveling. We’re hoping that this is the last big snowfall of winter.
It’s still winter, but we have sunshine and the snow has been melting!
Looking out the window, I can see the snow on the swing melting.
The wavy snow in the yard has some sort of animal tracks going through it.
In fact, it looks like a couple critters have been through.
Time for a walk. The rock by the front door is covered with an icy glaze that is melting in the sunshine.
The duck pond is still empty and silent.
The reeds along the edge of the pond are dead and brown.
The pine trees stand tall and proud in the blaze of the brilliant sun.
A lone pine cone, waiting for winter to end.
As long as the sun shines, I know that winter will end and spring will come again.
It started on Christmas Day. The snow coated the swings where I worked on quilt flowers last summer.
I sat inside with my cup of coffee, and admired God’s handiwork.
Almost every day, a little more snow fell…
There was enough for a snow tunnel!
Deep piles of snow!
The sun was shining with all its might, but the temperature was minus 1. Windshield wipers were tipped up so that they wouldn’t freeze to the windshield.
The yard was a lumpy white field with hills in it.
The snow outside the kitchen sliding door was over a foot high.
The mailbox huddled miserably in a mound of the white stuff.
After clearing the snow at the end of the driveway, the snow mound was taller than the cars parked in the street.
We’ll keep the shovel handy until we get that January thaw.
It finally happened – our first snowfall!
Time to take a walk in the snow with my faithful Ugg boots.
We call this the hybrid tree – two trees inseparable and growing into one.
During the summer months it looks like a giant pineapple.
The lamp of Narnia that never turns off. Notice all the cute orange-tipped sticks that the city put in the ground a month ago.
Oh no, where did we put the snow brush?
The orange sticks are meant to show the snowplows where the edge of the road is so that they don’t dig up up the grass along the sidewalk. Sadly, many of them are already knocked down or bent.
Time to put the feet up and watch the snow from inside with a glass of eggnog…
“Tragedy, Memory And Honor”
(the curved look is because I took a panoramic shot of it)
A close-up of one of the panels of “Tragedy, Memory And Honor”. The artist was in New York City during the attack on the twin towers. He saved some of the ashes and debris, and used it in this mural.
“Early January On The Pearl Street Bridge”
One of our local bridges over the Grand River.
Can you feel the love?
The hand-crafted coffin that is actually a “Music Box”.
Both creepy and beautiful.
For some reason, this little guy made me think of the extra-terrestrial in the movie “E.T.”
“Divided We Fall”
Clever art using PVC pipe, paper towels and duct tape to depict Vladimir Putin.
One entire hallway of the convention center was filled with signs that homeless people had made. Some were very basic; some were creative.
“Stages Of Grief”
The artist used her gift for painting to deal with the death of her mother.
Sunshine coming through the skylight gave the picture an interesting look.
“Otto’s Good Stuff”
Am I losing my mind, or was this display in last year’s Artprize?!
It was a dark and stormy day about a week ago. Lightning had prompted us to turn off and unplug the TV and computers. How to amuse grandpa, grandma, and two grand-kids? Have a stuffed animal hunt! How many places can these critter hide?
In a shirt.
Among our DVD collection.
On the stairs.
In one of my sewing drawers.
In the glove compartment of the car.
But Grandpa came up with the best hiding place – the underside of the kitchen table!
What’s your definition of a park? A playground with lots of swings and slides for the kids, and one of those merry-go-rounds that makes you sick? Picnic shelters with lots of tables, and some grills to roast hotdogs on? A place with curving cement sidewalks to roller-blade on?
I visited a very different kind of park today. It was the outdoors in its natural condition, unchanged by manicured landscaping, pesticides, herbicides, or play equipment. It was just… nature. There were several asphalt walkways near the entrance to the park, but then it changed into paths made by a lawn mower. It was like stepping back in time to what Michigan looked like before it became civilized. There were huge fields of wildflowers with butterflies and grasshoppers and bugs.
From sunny open fields, the path veered off into wooded areas with a variety of trees. Occasionally a tree would have a sign by it for identification:
We passed a green scuzzy pond that looked like something out of a fantasy tale.
Most of the park was in its natural state, with the exception of the occasional bench to sit and rest on, and the unusual sight of some stone blocks in the distance.
We hiked up the hill, through lumpy ground riddled with mole holes, but found no answer to the question of the stone blocks.
So we continued on, past prairie grasses nearly as tall as we were, trees whose branches grew almost sideways, and stagnant water pools with frogs and crickets. Then back to the car, back to traffic and noise, back to present day.