Sometimes I forget I have a blog. Life takes over, and before I know it, weeks (sometimes, months) have gone by without an entry.
No matter how hectic things get, however, I never stop taking pictures. My camera never gets put away.
In the backyard of the home I grew up in, there is a massive apple tree. In spring, its blossoms are resplendent. In late summer, its apples cover the ground below it. Its gnarled branches have held my children while they galloped on an old tire horse, and shaded their play summer after summer.
Its age shows in its bark, but so does its strength.
At the bottom of the steep hill that is Fort Henry, there are random (to me, anyway) construction items resting on the grass.
These two warped and rusted culverts may have been used at some time; to me, they were a photo opportunity.
I’ve driven by scenes like this dozens of times. And every time, I’ve wished I could stop to photograph them. Because of time, or not having my camera, or there not being a safe place to stop, I never did.
I’ve seen scenes like this more than ever since moving to Ontario. So after dropping the kids off at school, I headed out with my camera to see if I could capture a shot or two of these gorgeous rustic fences at the edge of fields.
This is one.
It was foggy when I woke up this morning.
My immediate reaction was to grab my camera and head out into the backyard. But there were limited subjects as the effects of the fog are difficult to see close up. At least, that’s what I thought until I discovered this web on my back porch.
Suddenly, the possibilities multiplied.
I captured this delicate web several times (you can see more web photos here), then quickly realized there were others, each one slightly different from the one before. The light was perfect and the fog had left tiny droplets along the threads of the web.
I was grateful for these tiny creations in my backyard.
Later, after returning home from a morning appointment, the webs were gone. No doubt more will be strung across the railings tomorrow; however, these exact lines, these patterns of silk and water and light were but a single moment.
A reminder to appreciate the little things.