The small songbirds flutter through the underbrush looking for seeds. The beavers seem to be active, but are no where to be seen. Still, their activity is everywhere, a tree here, there, they are up to something besides sleeping.
The Dead Tree Tells Its Story
Cold has frozen the creek and floods from the beaver dams, along with the snow, have flattened the grass. Things usually hidden in the undergrowth are seen in the winter, and they tell winter tales. Most of the fallen trees still have large amounts of soil attached to their roots, but this one has little left other than the skeleton. Even in death it seems to have suffered.
The Fence That Divides Purposes
This image is from a more recent project focused on a small bit of land, on the map called a “nature reserve,” which lies between residential housing and a fairly heavily industrialised area. A fence divides these two, broken in many places and overgrown by saplings that have disrupted its order and continuity. Besides the pathway, creek and fence running through this “natural” area is a freight line. Trains cross the creek, and loudly rumble through the bog and adjacent woodlands. There is no warning except signs telling you not to cross the tracks even though the pathway is clearly marked with steps and elevated boardwalk. An area of many contradictions.
Salt Pile
Along the Creek Running Through the Industrial Park
I have been taking images of this and several other compost piles for four or five years now. They reflect the seasons, death, growth and renewal. They are often full of plants and flowers recently cut down still trying to grow, struggling for life.
The Compost Pile
In the Garden, in the Rain.
A Beak in the Clouds
For several days, including Christmas Day, the Skys have been full of dark rain clouds. Only seldom is there a break. The man made structures in the garden often begin to glow when there is a break in the clouds. Sometimes their entire contents are visible.