Blown and Stained
In this ongoing series I relentlessly seek out what's been missed. Like a field worker in one of Van Gogh's paintings, I glean the horizon for seeds. Each one I find nourishes the community, reminding all, that there's ALWAYS more to be seen, and connections to be made.
Wind caress the landscape, stirring what lies in its path, indiscriminate, almost effortless. Sand and snow become a mixture of milk foam and coffee. The cold becomes warm as I'm walking on cappuccino.
A mark of something that was. Leftover. Past tense. Unintended mark. Sometimes life doesn't add up to one's hopes. One ALWAYS leaves something behind. There is beauty in this. At the VERY least, its JUST that.