Six-Shot Saturday

MORNING.
Web Fragments

Post-Frost Dissolves

Ethereal Swirl

Ice Table

AFTERNOON

Church Spire Rise

EVENING
Urban Dusk

Midsummer. Afternoon.

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.