Saturday, July 30, 2011
July 9, 2011. A weed, or an early flower, the origin of what progeny? Thistles were something to be hacked away, the scourge of neat farmers, the killers of precious crops. But what beauty in those soft purple heads, guarded by thorny leaves. My sister's land runs rampant with these stunning beauties, taller than I remember them from childhood.
July 4, 2011. I rounded the curve on a highway in western Minnesota a day or so earlier and this is what I saw, two rises, hillocks, in a vast green scape. Nothing really, just small rises in a flat landscape, but it stuck in my mind. Everything was farmed, except for the tops of each mound, leaving a tiny untouched oasis on the prairie.
June 26, 2011. I am often amazed by something that I didn't see before. Why didn't I see this? What sorry shortening of vision caused me to miss it? What extraordinary vision caused this to come into being when there were so many options to do far less? The repitition of patter and the directing of the eye, subtly, but still insistent.
June 19, 2011. A short walk on hot dunes and then this, these little points of life, lifting up from the sand like some alien life form. They reach through the sand and increase their range, only to fall back in the heat and the dryness. How long does it take to expand and create this pattern, driven by the ability to still live and sustain.
June 19, 2011. P-Town. Rust and dirt and sand. Basic elements have come together and without a design plan produce an arresting visual. The larger rust colored areas, so flat and smooth, are coverd by layered texture in opposition to the underlying movement, and then there is the rough piling of sand in little mounds and spits of shape. I could have stayed much longer.