...let me take you down / cranberry fields....nothing is real... and nothing to get hung about....
Barcelona Sketches
One of the angels descending from the Christopher Columbus Column.
People out and about in the winding Gothic Quarter alleys.
Angel from one of the many entrances of the Sagrada Familia.
The amazing cathedral of Girona.
equinox
Some folk mark the equinox by fantastic gigantic feathered serpents of light sliding down their pyramid....
I have to settle for something a little less extravagant but that which marks time in the same way.
My weeping birch begins to change her colours. Just a hint of yellow beginning now. Summer is saying her good-byes.
On The Teachings of Winter Trees
I promise that if you bundle up this winter and walk your daily walk, the winter trees will teach you more in this season than in any other season.
A winter tree has presence. Those of you who walk your winter walk, know this. Gone is the soft green dress of leaves and instead there is the starkness of limb and branch. The winter tree has character. This one, a double trunk, this one, a broken leader, and that one and undulating bend that brushes the ground.
Winter trees draw you closer in an intimate relationship. As your eye gazes at their texture and colour, the winter trees become familiar. Pearly greys, hazy greens, slick and smooth, textured and lichened. We come to know these trees, and we come to a knowing of trees and how they move in this world.
And we come to know where we stand, how we walk, and how we move through our small corner of the Earth. Our daily walk with winter trees rehabilitates us to our sense of place. We become engaged to the world around us.
So before deciding that this winter will be like every winter, a time of curling up and waiting for spring, bundle up and greet your winter trees andwalk with them. They have many teachings to share.
A Golden Reminder
A friend who was staying over remarked that the golden leaves of the deciduous trees kept making him think that the sun was out and shining. When he glanced out of the window, he would again be tricked into thinking the day was blue and sunny despite the unceasing rain.
And of course, in one way, he wasn't being tricked with sunlight having been once used to make the leaves to begin with. Preserved Sunlight. A wonderous thing.
The weeping birch tree in my yard, with its fine, delicate leaves is like a spire of dappled sunlight against the grey sky. It is a fifty foot lightning rod, though in this case, a sunlight rod, that is channeling the gold energy of sunlight back into the earth.
How fitting for the coming of winter and the darker days ahead. When the last gold leaf falls, I shall imagine the earth below storing and holding the golden energy for the greeness of spring.
In this way, my weeping birch is a reminder of the continuous flow of energy, energy that changes, transforms and transmutes.
In Meadows
Sitting in the long grass in the shade of a Big Leaf Maple. Dragonflies and Turkey Vultures flash their wings of silver. The field grass has turned to gold, end of summer days.
Tide Pools
At the Seashore
Sun and warmth. A lovely afternoon. Drop everything to get to the water's edge. Hallo Kingfisher, I haven't seen you in some days. Hallo Ants, yes, you are still here and crawling up my pant legs. Ah well. It is good to be here.
Daffodils
These daffs were a gift from a thoughtful neighbour. As the yellow intensity fades to a thoughtful hue, an unusual satin texture wrinkles the once exuberant trumpeting petal
Tiger Beetle
I do love these black Tiger Beetles, like tiny jaguars of the undergrowth. Shy of humans and prefering to do their hunting by night, one can still 
under leaf litter, rocks and assorted foresty debris and when found usually incites a loud "Hello" (from me, not the beetle). Quite often, these lovely black tigers have a squiggly streak of purple irridescence down their back. I don't know what it is as it is not a regular pattern nor is it on every beetle. Perhaps there is more to it than what we can see with our paltry human eyes.
This unfortunate fellow, was found by the side of the road where several roads intersect; lots of asphalt to cross on tiny legs. Good hunting in your Beetle Valhalla my stealthy friend.