MORNING.
Web Fragments
Post-Frost Dissolves
Ethereal Swirl
Ice Table
AFTERNOON
Church Spire Rise
EVENING
Urban Dusk
The wheel of the year continues to turn. We walk in a day carved out as the longest. Maybe with a sense of obligation, the sun shines down. My children gaze up at a horse chestnut tree, in the shade filled with an irrational, unseasonal hope.
They mark out the year only by conkers and snow.
Even the starlings were sunbathing.