I call my photograph Snow Shadows with Prints. I like how the table casts a highly cut shadow onto the snow. You can also see that the squirrels have ventured out of their nests in the pines to search for the birdseed and peanuts I put out for them. I chose this photo for Xingfu Mama’s One-to-Three Photo Processing Challenge/January. It is a good depiction of the weather we are having, and since we are also in the deep freeze here in southern New Jersey, playing with photo filters is a fun way to pass the time.
Filter one, gritty, accentuates the silhouette appearance of the snow shadows even more. (Filter available through Ribbet.com)
Filter two, heat map, accentuates the snow’s glow and the table’s hardness.
Filter three, neon, highlights the lines and curves of the objects and shadows.
Thanks to Xingfu Mama for hosting this blog challenge.
Now and then, I am quick enough to prepare a post for the Lens-Artists Challenge. This week, the challenge is to use photographs that portray five elements that make up the world around us. The elements are fire, water, wood, earth, and metal.
My first photo portrays fire. The fire of the sun is an element in all of my photos. The view is what I see as I stand in my front yard and attempt to watch the setting sun through the trees.
Dandelions conquer whatever earth their seeds land upon. I love the way the clocks of the plant let loose their seeds in puffs of wind or are blown into the breezes by a wish-filled child. If I look closely at a dandelion in the fire of the sun’s rays, each small piece of fluff seems to mirror the sun’s light.
The sun’s rays seemed to deepen the shadows of the heart carved into the tree’s wood.
The last photograph combines the elements of water and metal. It is a bit blurry, but it was taken with my phone through a plate glass window as we finished Thanksgiving dinner in a favorite restaurant. The ship is sailing down the Delaware River near Philadelphia, and we are on the other side of the river in New Jersey. The light illuminated the metal ship with fire and reflected in the water.
The beautiful fluff emerging from the pods of the Butterfly Weed has entranced me for days. God fashioned the pod’s tip to open the fluff before it rides the wind. The sharp end helps the poufs round out as they await launch.
This week, I held the fluff above my head and watched as it rode the air currents fifty feet into the air. Quickly out of sight, I wished they would reach the heavens and lightly brush the face of God. Yes, I’ll admit I was momentarily childish in my thinking. Still, His Spirit certainly touched my spirit in return, and I was reminded of that verse that tells us to receive the Kingdom of Heaven like a child.
Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” Mark 10:15
The seeds are ready to be airborne and fly into the sky. A perfect photo for Skywatch Friday.
Cardinal Climber Vine ((Ipomoea × multifida) is my post for Cee’s Flower of the Day. These vines and the beautiful trumpet-shaped flowers blooming on them are some of the best flowers for a hummingbird garden.
Most of my garden plants have blooms that are waning. I don’t obsess over the lack of bloom because I see few bees, butterflies, and hummingbirds in October. The Cardinal Climber Vines bloomed late for me this year. I thought they were in a slump until a few weeks ago when they burst into dozens of blossoms. There is nothing timid about these flowers when they bloom; they are brilliant in color, and the stamen almost seems to glow like a spotlight beckoning hummingbirds to dive in for the nectar they contain.
Yesterday, I had an experience that I hope will stay a treasure in my spirit forever. I was bent down, turning off the hose nozzle, and when I stood, inches from me, a hummingbird was sipping nectar from the Cardinal Climber blooms. It seemed unaware of me, or perhaps in fueling up to return to warmer climates, was willing to risk my presence. I stood for several minutes, holding my breath, wanting to jump for joy as I listened to the buzz of the small bird’s wings and had the closest view ever of a hummingbird sipping nectar. I will never forget that magical moment in the garden.
The hydrangeas I displayed as my IAVOM two weeks ago, have dried beautifully. The colors have deepened into a beautiful purple and sage green. They rustle when I lightly brush them, and the sound reminds me of old book pages. I was so happy with the shade of their flowers that I used them as the inspiration for the Autumn mantel and strayed away from my usual golds, burgundy, and rust.
The hydrangeas are in a vase that, while a bit minty, can almost pass for sage green. I frequently use this McCoy Swan vase for arrangements. Surrounding the vase are gourds we bought in farm markets and garden centers this past weekend. A wise owl looks on the display; his heart-shaped face expresses fond approval of my choices. A wooden mushroom, last year’s birthday present from a sister, seems to fit in with the theme. I love to strew beads and garlands of bells over the mantel in a haphazard way. It adds a bit of interest.
What you can’t see are the old books and other Autumn decorations to the left, all in the same shades. Thanks for visiting and thank you to Rambling in the Garden, the host of IAVOM.
In my part of Southern New Jersey, the temperature is in the 90s. AccuWeather says the real-feel temperature is around 104°. The hot weather is helping the caterpillars thrive. I have an abundance of them in the Butterfly House and each is born with a ravenous appetite.
Inside the houses, I have Rue, a host plant, and a few sprigs of parsley. The dill in the garden is still only in the small sprout stage since I planted it late. The fennel is suffering a bit in the heat, and since that is where most of the eggs for the Black Swallowtail Butterflies are laid, I don’t want to use it all. My goal is to concoct the perfect caterpillar feast for strong butterflies.
Queen Anne’s Lace, a host plant, is in bloom now, and the tall umbrella spires grow in hedgerows near my home. I took a walk with my cutting sheers in the hottest part of the day in hopes of collecting the wildflowers.
Unfortunately, the Queen Anne’s lace was not where I expected it to be. The sprigs I had seen a week or two earlier had bloomed and gone, and my walk became longer than I had planned. I did find more growing along the edge of the woods and cut several stems. By the time I got home, they were significantly wilted, and I wondered if I could use them as I had planned for the IAVOM challenge and afterward as food for the caterpillars. The Queen Anne’s Lace stems drew up water and eventually recovered. I used a Coca-Cola bottle as a vase.
Butterfly tip: The Queen Anne’s Lace, though the blossoms become frail, has stems that stay firm even after drying out. They are perfect for a caterpillar to use to form its chrysalis.
Yes, you are correct if you think this blog becomes inundated with butterflies at this time of year.
Today’s photographs are part of the Cosmic Photo Challenge, Contrast. The markings on the butterfly are an excellent example of contrasting colors. The butterfly contrasts nicely with the garden plants he rests upon as he finishes drying off his wings.
Another good contrast is the natural support of the butterfly chrysalis on the left compared to the one on the right. I save so many caterpillars; they sometimes bump finished chrysalises right off their mooring of spun web. I found the chrysalis in the papoose-like sling of string lying on the floor of the butterfly house. I am hoping it will develop properly and emerge perfectly.
When I use string to repair a chrysalis resting place, I separate garden twine into single pieces. This is as close as I can come to mimicking the web they spin. It doesn’t harm the developing butterfly. I’ve had two emerge and fly off into the wide world after being put back into place with garden string.
The yard is dreary beneath rainy March skies, but the gardens are ablaze with the captured sunshine of daffodils.
I couldn’t leave so many of them to droop beneath the raindrops, so I cut them to create a bouquet to enjoy in the house. A break in the clouds enabled sunshine to pour through the window, backlighting the daffodils perfectly for their portrait.
“Daffodils with sunlit petals all ablaze, Will ever create in me words of praise.”
Forgive me, my amateur poetical nod to William Wordsworth’s beautiful poem about daffodils. You can find his excellent poem below.
I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
By WILLIAM WORDSWORTH (1770 – 1850)
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
**************************************
Daffodils are a part of Cee’s Flower of the Day Challenge.
Definitely the daffodils are my “Whatsoever is Lovely” moment for Xingfu Mama’s Challenge.
The daffodils are definitely the dancers of Springtime. They move to the rain, the wind, and face the sunshine, dwelling in the music of nature.
The beautiful moss spores are my choice for The Cosmic Photo Challenge/What’s Flowering Where You Are? Before the recent snowstorm, I grabbed my camera and took a woodland walk. I was amazed at the vivid green of the mosses and lichens. In places where the sun shone through the branches, I noticed some of the mosses had already sent up spore capsules. I’m going to stretch and say these are a type of bloom.
If I had to rate these moss spores for beauty between 1-10, they would receive a 10+ from me.
Skunk cabbage has also emerged in the dead of winter. Here are some of the ‘knobs’ before the snow covered them. I read an amazing fact on the PFEIFFER NATURE CENTER site: some skunk cabbage plants can be over 100 years old. Wow, I will feel a bit more awe over them when I take my next woods walk.
Next time when I become a bit winter-worn and weary over the cold weather, I’ll remind myself of those skunk cabbages never giving up.
As always, lichen on fallen branches are a welcome touch of green.
Whatsoever is Lovely? Definitely the small and delicate bits of green I found in the woods. I wish I could have a large garden plot filled with mosses and lichens in the winter.
Seven hundred days…that is how long the weather forecasters told us our area had not seen accumulating snowfall. This week, when the skies greyed and beautiful snowflakes began to descend, it created a swell of joy in many, especially children with new sleds and toboggans. It was a superb snowstorm, not so much as to cause a complete standstill, but enough to have a bit of fun in. Even the most winter-weary could not feel hostility toward it when they gazed at a landscape frosted with white.
There is little left in my yard to vase. I took advantage of an amaryllis that had grown so top-heavy it had to spend its last days in the garage. I found a basket instead of a vase. Anything glass or porcelain might have cracked in the freezing temperatures. I plucked a few stems of sedum that still had some dried flowers and placed them in the spring-green basket. The amaryllis mirrored the brilliant snow. It is a fun way to celebrate IAVOM (In a Vase on Monday) and the glorious snowfall.
My area of Southern New Jersey went over 700 days without accumulating snowfall. Yesterday, we had a beautiful snowstorm throughout the day. What a lovely sense of peace the quiet flakes instill into the atmosphere. Early in the morning, I couldn’t resist grabbing my camera and taking photos as I fed the birds.
A Junco, one of a large flock that visits my yard, seemed to wait patiently for me to scatter birdseed.
The Rose of Sharon pods were the perfect resting place for snowflakes. Looking closely, you can see a few of the sharp points of individual flakes.
The gourd birdhouse, crafted several years ago, looked lovely with a coating of snow.
The Japonica, colorful with new growth, wore a blanket of snowflakes.
English Ivy, indestructible, seemed impervious to the cold.
A stem of a zinnia, left in place as cover for birds, held a mound of crystal snowflakes…beautiful.
The flying pig who holds court over the sideyard couldn’t escape the snowfall. A natural monochromatic setting with the grey sky behind him and the bird bath pedestal beneath him seems a good choice for Skywatch Friday.
I love this quote from my Farmer’s Almanac Daily Calendar:
When oak trees bend with snow in January, good crops may be expected.
I enjoyed a quick walk on this second morning in January. The air, crisp with cold, was stimulating, waking me up and opening my eyes to the beauty in the winter landscape. The limbs and twigs of the trees against the chilly sky are God’s sculptures raising their arms toward the heavens. I could almost imagine them beginning to sing.
I searched for dandelion cones with fluff emerging from their tips. I am partial to dandelions; in fact, I have named 2024 my year of the dandelion. I want to be as productive and as resilient as this beautiful plant.
What do I love about dandelions? Perhaps it’s the color and shape. The flower reflects the Sun. I admire the resilience of dandelions. They will bloom wherever they can and grow lushly, even within the cracks of the street and sidewalks. Just today, I photographed this determined plant thriving in the smallest of spaces between the curb and the blacktop. I have read recently that one dandelion plant can produce up to 2,000 seeds. I hope to be as productive as the dandelion and spread as much GOOD NEWS as possible.
Here’s a fun project to do with children. You can string the unopened pods of dandelion seeds onto a piece of thread, and within 24 hours, they change and open up into perfect spheres. It’s so easy, and if you choose the right place, they will reflect the sunshine and glow and bring a touch of magic into the room. The photos below show the process. So much fun!
The candy is light enough not to break the string but heavy enough to give it a bit of weight. I love bringing a touch of whimsy to winter days.
