Wednesday, August 01, 2012
Morning Thanks--the pines in their finery
There are Norway pines on the yard just outside my window. One is dead, and the other three aren't in good shape. I'm not at all sure of what's attacking them, but it's clear that, sooner or later, the owner of this place is going to have to take them all down, which is sad because trees are much beloved in tall-grass prairie country, where, once upon a time, the grass was a seemingly endless ocean. And pines are a rarity.
Weeds grow up beneath the branches--you can see them. I can hardly get at them because those lower branches, the thorny dead ones especially, are like barbed wire. See the dead branches extending from the right side of the picture?--they're history. I took them down yesterday. The best you could say for them is they created some interesting lines. That wasn't enough. This morning, they're firewood.
There's nothing particularly pretty about the subject of this still life. Lots of death and decay actually, and a few weeds that, if unchecked, would only grow more boisterous.
Yet, come dawn, what I see out my window--"stuff in the basement" is now, officially, false advertising--is really quite stunning, isn't it? But then, once the morning sun graces anything, it's worth taking note.
Photography, saith this total amateur, is really all about light--managing it, in a way, even though it can't be managed, because ten minutes from now those trees will be clothed in different apparel altogether, something even Photoshop can't mimic. So, really, what tickles my fancy (and, I hope, yours) about this otherwise mundane peek out into the yard, a depressing, dying world, is made so only by the tender grace of soft morning light.
When the morning sun burnishes even these dying Norway pines, it dresses them out in the finest apparel they'll ever wear, and this is what I see.
This morning I'm thankful for the blessed artistry of the golden morning sun.