

I reviewed some recent photos. This one is impossibly lovely.

Another day blazes into existence.

A farmers’ yard light is a tiny speck lost in the immensity of a field of corn stubble barely illuminated by a glorious dawn.
So it is with all of us, mere specks in the immensity of all that is.

A country barn, backgrounded by a low, thick bank of fog.


Hoarfrost wraps itself around the landscape on a late winter morning.

It is remarkable that this former schoolhouse has survived a wave of old building knockdowns intended to open up another one fifth acre of cropland.
While I’m glad it has survived to this time, I cannot help wondering how much longer its charmed life will continue,

Behold: a glorious sunrise.

. . . will soon become winter’s blue and white.

And that’s fine. I am not sad about winters’ approach . . . I have no control over the weather or climate. It’s better, healthier, to accept what will be.