At first I thought there was something wrong with my little canary: Feathers were everywhere.
Then, I realized he was only moulting.
And these tiny feathers, gathered in the corner of his cage, were a delicate and beautiful thing. So I captured their silky texture and fine lines with my camera before I cleaned his cage.
As I was reaching in to feed my canary, he fluttered past me to freedom.
In a moment of panic, I shouted at the dogs and rushed them out the door before they could snack on him. Then I grabbed my camera and snapped away while he posed on the edge of a pot near the window (and nibbled from the orange trees that my daughter is growing).
It was the first time in the two years since I’ve had him that he’s stayed still long enough to capture him.
While staining my back deck, I listen.
I listen to the rushing river sound of the wind in the trees. I listen to the flutter of wings flapping overhead. I listen to the buzzing of the hornets when they get too close.
The knocking of the woodpecker is near. And then she is at the bird house only steps away, feeding her young. I pause and watch, thrilled to be able to see one so close.
This is one moment I don’t capture with my camera, a moment I would miss if I did.