the thick scent of wet Earth: conversion experience anew
banana slug on path
the perfectly-rolled, dried-up maple leaf and the other huge, perfectly-flat-open, supple
maple leaf
two dozen fat figs ripening on the branches
aching muscles and heaving breath from trail-running
a breeze that suddenly arises, strong, and then quickly fades
the squirrel on the tree trunk who screeches loudly as we pass by
garden lettuce and strawberries warmed by the sun picked sixty seconds ago and now in
my dinner bowl
fresh moss in piles along the edges
a sage-green, agate-white, mousse-black wad of lichen
fur-fortified coyote scat
thin threads of redcedar bark, vertical bliss climbing high overhead
two halves of a day stereotypically blue sky, white clouds, green fir trees, yellow sun:
cleaved by an abrupt torrent of chunky rain for thirty-two minutes
rose petals, snapdragons, peonies, lilies, petunias
and one hairy bee climbing inside pansy after pansy, emerging from each with
ever-thicker golden pollen-socks
the sweet images of burgeoning Earth: conversion experience anew
All blog images created & photographed by Jennifer J. Wilhoit unless otherwise noted. Please circulate images with photo credit: "©2019 JenniferJWilhoit/TEALarbor stories. AllRightsReserved."