Textures

Texture is the most enduring and ubiquitous underpinning of form... certainly a calming, meditative and appealing world for both the eye and mind. ~ Lynda Lehmann

I have a few photos showing various textures as seen on my everyday walks or at home. I hope you enjoy them.


The late November sun shone from behind this fuzzy sumac limb. You can see that the buds were already preparing for spring.





The ragged wooden bits of a snapped tree limb.





A golden oak leaf and its shadow as seen on New Year's Day.





These tall-growing plants seem to last through the winter. I'm not sure what they're called but Fluffs is as good a name as any.





Alongside the brick wall, mama and baby chipmunk wait patiently for the nut and seed buffet to begin.





The warm sunlight illuminates a strip of peeling tree bark.





The silken hairs of the milkweed seed are trapped on a dried plant stem.





A pine tree in the park oozes blue sap. A peanut in the knot hole awaits one of our regular squirrel friends.





This maple leaf is still rich with colour in late November, despite being dry and brittle.





Last but not least, I thought that this partial portion of Chicken Cordon Blue resembled a dinosaur's head... or something.

I hope you enjoyed exploring these textures with me. More photos in a few days.

Potluck

The following photos are images that just never fit in with any of my recent posts so they're getting served up as a leftover potluck post.

Earlier this month, when we were with our son after getting his license, we stopped at a restaurant for a celebratory lunch. I love dragonflies, as to which this post might attest, and when I saw this one up on a Tiffany lamp, I had to snap it.

Just over a month ago, the ground was clear, but icy. This scraggly, but heroic maple leaf weathered the winter, to show off its textured finery.

Less than two weeks ago, after we'd had balmy temperatures of 14C (57F), Mother Nature decided that we had become too complacent. She spent all night and all day blowing this white stuff all over the neighbourhood. It's almost entirely gone now.

Speaking of white stuff, Alex opened a new carton of ice cream to find that it left an impression of a bear print on the lid.

Sunlight streaming in through the back window of my living room and across the piano and bench. I thought it made an attractive image.

Teeny-tiny flowers budding on a plant in the kitchen. Each one is no larger than an eraser on the end of a pencil. I can't wait until it's mild enough to put my plants back outside for the summer.

I hope you enjoyed the potluck. Coffee, anyone?