Mallards in Clearwater, FL. May 4, 2019.
If it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, we have at least to consider the possibility that we have a small aquatic bird of the family anatidae on our hands. ~ Douglas Adams
ETA: Used this quote a little over a year ago. Oops. Knew I liked it.
This photo of my front flower bed contains invasive stuff. Grass, Creeping Bellflower, and whatever tree-start that is. Do I mind? No. Not when everywhere I look outside it’s hot and dry and brown and smoky and yucky.
July 16, 2020
I welcome all shades of green.
Patio bloom. July 12, 2020.
Almost missed her there
worker ant making the rounds
colorful work space
Western Kingbird. Grand Island, NE. 6.2.20
The U.S. Senate just adjourned until September 8 without passing a stimulus package. They’re going back to their comfortable homes and lives, oblivious to the pain and suffering of the peasants. If we’re going to be ruled by an entitled aristocracy, I’d prefer to bow down to a feathered king.
May 4, 2017
This spent phlox is a pretty accurate representation for how I’m feeling today.
August 6, 2020
Bloomed out.
Worn out.
Depleted.
But just as this hardy perennial will gather its resources in order to bloom again in the future, so will I. Hopefully, it won’t take me until next summer to do so.
I got out of bed at 7:20 this morning, which is early for me (I know, I know), because I had a call scheduled with my agent to discuss revising my middle grade novel. The good news is that although there’s much work ahead of me, I’m excited about this book again.
Bee on Fern Bush. August 4, 2020
Before the call, I felt zero enthusiasm. I couldn’t imagine how I’d revise this book in a way that would satisfy my agent’s (valid) concerns while remaining true to my vision. Fortunately, my agent has a keen editorial eye and made several excellent suggestions that give me a path forward. I’m so relieved! So happy!
Now, all that’s left to do is the actual work. HA! This busy bee needs to get revising.
It’s Monday and it feels like a Monday. All I’ve got to offer are these two slightly out of focus Day Lilies I photographed a month ago.
July 3, 2020
Here’s hoping your Monday is following a different script.
Greetings from my friend, Marcel.
July 2020.
This peanut butter kitty could definitely kick our asses with his enormous feet, but Marcel prefers to snuggle. In fact, he’s in ecstasy when I rub the the bottoms of those long feet and often drools during our massage sessions. Gotta admire his unapologetic hedonism.
Spotted Towhee & House Finch. July 26, 2020.
Water for the bees
Towhee and Finch say “Yes, please”
clean feathers are key
Today’s been exhausting on multiple levels: personal, professional, societal, and human-on-the-planet. I just took a much-needed nap and am now posting this burst of yellow as a reminder of all the beauty in our world.
July 12, 2020.
Next on my self-care agenda? Scrubbing out my kitchen sinks.
Please do whatever you need to take care of yourselves.
Off I-76. June 5, 2020.
Accidental pic
each look gives me vertigo
my world at a slant
We interrupt our regularly scheduled program
Climate rally in Boulder, CO. March 15, 2019.
with a message from our sponsor
Climate rally in Boulder, CO. March 15, 2019.
Remember: there is no Planet B.
Grand Island, NE. June 2, 2020.
This is an Eurasian Collared-Dove.
The possession of knowledge does not kill the sense of wonder and mystery. There is always more mystery. ~ Anais Nin
Where’s the head? Are those wing or tail feathers? Did a tornado just blow through?
It’s hard getting out of bed these days. I eventually got myself upright and after my morning ablutions, I reached for my hoop. For twenty minutes, I hoop-danced in front of my living room window. My mood lifted and I felt more energized. As I danced to the music, my eyes kept going to the purple coneflowers in the front garden bed and I told myself I’d photograph them when the dance session ended.
Purple Coneflowers. July 16, 2020.
Today I am grateful for these flowers, for my hoop, for music, and for my climate activist friend who’s currently reading my middle grade novel to make sure I didn’t misrepresent anything. Also? I’m glad I got out of bed.
Beaver pond in Uncompahgre National Forest. July 29, 2019.
I see aquarium plants waving gently in the water.
In reality, this is sedum and penstemon growing in my front garden. But my lack of focus and the poor exposure make it look like aquatic plants. Rather artsy-fartsy, methinks.
This photo seems fitting today as I continue revising my middle-grade novel based on a critique partner’s (CP) comments.
House Finches + Goldfinch. May 23, 2020.
Her insights are helping me ground each character in key scenes. This CP excels at noting the many moving pieces in my story, reminding me to take into account each character’s perspective. Revision is a dream when I’m equipped with such a good map. Much gratitude to Marcia.
(Another CP is reading the same version Marcia received and I’m beaming thoughts to the universe that his feedback aligns with hers because otherwise, yikes. What will I do with a whole new map? Breathe, Tracy. Breathe.)
Common Grackle. Grand Island, NE. June 2, 2020.
Birds are the most accomplished aeronauts the world has ever seen. They fly high and low, at great speed, and very slowly. And always with extraordinary precision and control. ~ David Attenborough
Bunny checking out the vinca. June 28, 2020.
There are many rabbits in our neighborhood this year. As I take my daily walk, I see them hopping across streets and lounging on lawns. They sit beneath parked vehicles and nap in shrubbery. On yesterday’s walk Zippy suddenly asked, “What do you think you’re doing?” and I was momentarily confused. I mean, wasn’t it clear? I was walking.
And then I realized my partner’s question was directed to a rabbit lying a couple feet away from us, smack dab in the middle of the street, ears tucked back, as if that somehow camouflaged it. Which I guess it did, seeing as I hadn’t even seen it. (I’ll add that Emma, our short-legged doggo who’s in a much better position to notice things on the ground, was equally clueless about the rabbit’s presence). That bunny was completely chill. Not at all concerned it might get trampled by two humans and a dog. Or run over by a car. Or eaten by a coyote from the nearby open space.
Actually, I’m starting to think maybe I should adopt that bunny’s attitude.
Dayliles make me happy. They’re cheery and vibrant. They intrigue from every angle.
Daylilies in my front yard. July 3, 2020.
Also? They’re a very low maintenance perennial. What’s not to love?
Portal, Arizona. May 15, 2019.
So extraordinary is Nature with her choicest treasures, spending plant beauty as she spends sunshine, pouring it forth into land and sea, garden and desert. ~John Muir
Square Top Lakes hike. August 28, 2019.
A lifetime ago
laughing, talking on the trails
little did we know
Allium and butterfly. May 22, 2020.
I stayed in a KOA cabin in Grand Island, Nebraska, earlier this month. The cabin was cute and cozy, but the highlight was the Barn Swallow presence.
June 4, 2020
June 4, 2020
They’d built a nest on the beam above the front porch and were very active. I was so focused on photographing this pair I didn’t realize I was getting eaten alive by mosquitoes. I shudder to think how many bites I would’ve gotten if those swallows weren’t there to catch and eat mosquitoes on the wing. I’m definitely on #TeamSwallow when it comes to biting insects.
Tracy Abell 