I tend to get caught up in squiggly lines. They excite me and my trigger happy index finger. It's an addiction I've learned to reel in over the years. Much more problematic when shooting with film, unless of course your heavily invested in Apple stocks or your last name is Gates. I find it hard to capture patterns in a lasting image. Most of the time, for me anyway, it comes out confusing and not exactly portraying the feeling I had at the moment of capture. But, on rare occasions, my squiggly messes make me proud. As with this image, I'm happy with it. Can you believe it? The feeling of it. At the moment anyway :) Reds and reflected blue trunks squiggled their way into my heart in this performance of aspens in the sierra. The lost jungle of hope. An ordinary place, sugared leaves bite the cold autumn breeze and twankly trunks show off the splendor and effort of their years. Exploding colors take to the sky. Natures grandest filter projects pink tones down thru the canopy. And soft blues quietly glow on white bark. "Ruf ruff". Their broken trunk knots, like eyes of the forest. keep watch over the trolls and ferries of the underworld. In the distant darkness, twin eyes with lids closed await the coming of twilight and the birth of complete darkness. And soon, submersed in the pacific breeze, the glowing reds fade into burnt browns and holy curled and shattered shells of their former selves. Ever falling... and softly scattered across a frosty sierra bed. Some days it all looks like a big mess to me... and some days it just makes so much sense. I SO miss music these days.
PS YES, i made up the word twankly... what about it!
My girl likes when i make up words. One should be so lucky.