It rained last night. When I woke up and opened the blinds next to my bed, I saw that the sky was a whitish-gray. Clear, but no clouds.
The leaves are still tenaciously clinging to the trees.
We got a big wind the other day, and many blew down and are scattered all over the patio. When the dogs come in, so do the leaves, leaving a pattern where they walk.
There is a chill in the air today. Yesterday I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt. Today I am wearing long-sleeved jammies.
It is the kind of cold that clings to you. But not yet the kind of cold that settles in your bones.
Oddly enough, I still have flowers blooming. The white and red geraniums. The red blooms of the pineapple sage. Some pink daisies and white alyssum.
I took these photos at the park. Normally I would delete ones like this. But I decided I rather liked the water color effect of it.
I guess it is all in my mood whether I decide I like what comes from my camera. And whether I will keep it or hit Delete.
I like the starkness of color on color. The circles and prisms of light.
There is so much to see when you look through that lens. My way is just to keep taking them. One after the other after the other. Turning round and round and just taking it all in.
Totally unaware if they will have any merit once I look at them on a computer monitor. That is half the fun!
I just finished writing letters to my grandchildren. I put a pretty printable in my granddaughter's envelope.
I added one Ghirardelli square of chocolate I bought in each one before I sealed them. I will mail them tomorrow.
I hope I can take them out one day and teach them what to look for through a camera lens. How to wait, pause, and allow time for the image to speak to you.
You have to look beyond the tree branches to its leaves. Beyond its leaves to the pattern within them.
Because the beauty could be anywhere. You just have to know where and how to look for it.