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.
When it came in through the garage, I screeched like it was trying to attack me.
My ten-year-old son tried to save me by swatting at it. He’s my hero.
But it was bedtime, so I said let it be and we’d get it in the morning. Then I forgot about the moth.
This morning, the moth was in the bathtub. Before running for the fly swatter, I stopped for a minute and looked at it. It had a surprisingly pretty pattern on its wings.
First, I captured it with my camera. Then, I captured it with a cup and set it free.
(*Please note: The focus in the photo is deliberately softened to make the moth appear less bug-like; those little legs give me the creeps!)
This summer has been short.
There have been days when it has felt more like fall, and days when the rain seemed it would never stop. But this afternoon, the sun is warming my shoulders in my backyard.
I want to take this feeling with me into fall, to warm me on crisp mornings. I want to take it with me into winter, a memory of summer on my back when the snow whitens the earth. I’d like to wrap this summer sun into a package to open when the days are short and the air is icy and its heat seems too far away.
So I soak in this late summer sun, and I make this moment count.