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It's the seedhead of Pulsatilla patens, otherwise known in Montana as Pasqueflower. This group of pasqueflowers were growing in a Mullen Pass meadow, near Helena, Montana.
Poem
There are no words in
this poem
only small shifts in stance
like quick hand signals against
the light
there are no words
in this poem
only what these seeds
whisper when wind,
like breathing, sighs against
their softness
This is exactly as the photo came from my camera - no sharpening, color saturation, cropping or whatever.... I'm not very good at macro or closeup shots, so my critical eye sees the blur and lack of focus and says, bleh... but still I really like this image. Mostly I am blown away by the way the inside of this milkweed pod looks like it has rubbed-on gold leaf. Like a sacred icon, or the dome of a temple, or the wonderful honey you find when you look at someone you love.
Besides all that, in my opinion, milkweed is one of the most amazing plants in so many ways. I make handmade paper from the stems. And I use the seeds (the fluff) in the paper as well, as an added texture. And the pods! They are so sexy!
if you'd like to read a poem I wrote to go with this series, please click here.
Part of the Set, Milkweed Mother. Read the dedication here
Shot lying on my sleeping bag up in the meadows ... the color is from smoke from wildfires burning to the west of our land.
Part of the set, Light of Wildfires
Part of the set, almost black and white nature.
Wild Parsley
I lay my cheek down on
cool green blades
and watch flickering sunlight move
through disks of wild parsley
inhale spring sap perfume -- the
scent hangs sweet and redolent from
cottonwood buds -- heavy
like a cloud of old memories
I listen to a swishing
crinoline gesture in the distance
branch-dancers rise beneath
the always-flow of water music
my thoughts float
on the surface of years ago ...
carried over and over through the repeated questions
of some bird's one-note-song
each repeated stanza rises at the end
like a bedspring in the forest,
creaking under the weight of
so much life
insects float and twirl,
their translucent wings
are dust motes
beckoning wild unstructured
the way memory sometimes
starts
and stops -- in fits --
and broken soundings and
comes back to the light
copyright Maureen Shaughnessy 2006
Chrysothamnus naseosus -- Rubber Rabbitbrush in Montana ... these are the seedheads that persist thoroughout the winter, giving this low growing shrub a fluffy, cloudlike character that adds winter interest. A native of the Rocky Mountain West.
This photo is also part of the set, Last Light: www.flickr.com/photos/montanaraven/sets/564186/
Part of the set, Dead of Winter here: www.flickr.com/photos/montanaraven/sets/1776610/
Part of a new set of just trees, The Soul of a Tree
LEMONS TO LEMONADE:
Shot from the window of my car in the pouring down rain. At first, I was going to delete this photo, but the more I looked at it, the more I liked the tipsy-angle and the background (with the lines of the house siding behind the daisies) So I played around with the curves in PShop til I came up with something I like - it has an almost surreal quality now, and the daisies are the focal point. What do you think?
We all know snow is cold. So because it's cold, we tend to think plants "see" it the same way. Well, snow actually helps plants survive through the cold winters because it acts as a blanket, insulating from the cold -- but even more-so, insulating the plants from the drying winds of winter. All those air pockets in the fluffy snow are similar to the air pockets in thermal underwear... or a down comforter on a winter night.
Although others come here I imagine that it is my very own secret meadow because I have never encountered another soul on my many walks through this magical place. Sam (our old dog) and I go here 3 or 4 times a week to explore. There are dozens of deer trails through the grasses and wild rose thickets. Sam leads the way, almost always choosing a different route, sampling the many delicious smells he finds with his nose.
When I first came upon this meadow and forest of dwarf aspens, I literally stopped in my tracks and my mouth dropped open. I sensed something truly unique here. Entering through the dilapidated crooked gate was like stepping into a grand, hushed cathedral -- the place evokes in me the respect, quiet, mystery and honor Nature deserves. I determined on that first visit that I would try to document what it was about this place that touched my heart and spirit so profoundly. I wonder if any of the other people who come to this place have similar feelings. I wonder how long it will remain since it's on the edge of an area that is being re-developed and the old things here are being bulldozed for the new.
Besides the beckoning path, the textures and the shadows here ... the aspens were what stood out to me first: the spirit of this place is embodied and contained in the aspens. They are old, but short and full of character ... in my photographs of the meadow and wood, I have found it next to impossible to convey the stunted growth of these aspens. I have tried to capture their essence, their dwarfish forms with my camera but I don't think I have succeeded.
When I am there in the midst of the odd proportions of these aspens, I clearly see their size and shape relative to my own body. Yet when I see the photos on my hard drive, something essential is missing -- they look almost ordinary. I would be interested in anyone's feedback on this, as I am having a hard time articulating what I want to accomplish with these photos.
Part of the set, Magical Place
also v
I can imagine being a tiny bug living under this canopy ... reminds me of the 60s & 70s "Jetson" style architecture.
That's a 100 ft tall ponderosa pine trunk in the background .... we're very tiny here ....
Part of the set, almost black and white nature.
I posted the following poem in the description for a second pic in this series, both shot at the same time I wrote the poem, so I thought I would share it here as well:
Wild Parsley
I lay my cheek down on
cool green blades
and watch flickering sunlight move
through disks of wild parsley
inhale spring sap perfume -- yes,
scent hangs sweet and redolent from
cottonwood buds -- heavy
like a cloud of old memories
I listen to a swishing
crinoline gesture in the distance
branch-dancers rise beneath
the always-flow of water music
my thoughts float
on the surface of years ago ...
carried over and over through the repeated questions
of some bird's one-note-song
each repeated stanza rises at the end
like a bedspring in the forest,
creaking under the weight of
so much life
insects float and twirl,
their translucent wings
are dust motes
beckoning wild unstructured
the way memory sometimes starts
and stops -- in fits -- and
broken soundings yet
comes back to the light
copyright M. Shaughnessy 2006
Every living thing has a voice. We only need to listen and look with our souls.
Part of this set, Gesture Poems here: www.flickr.com/photos/montanaraven/sets/72057594051778836/
Chrysothamnus naseosus (Rubber Rabbitbrush) seeds linger on in late fall. I love the way these seedheads stay even most of the winter - they look gorgeous against white snow (not much snow yet, this year)
Part of the set, Last Light: www.flickr.com/photos/montanaraven/sets/564186/
and blogged at Ravens Nest here: ravengrrl.blogspot.com
An oasis of wetness in the surrounding dry desert canyons of Utah ... life is exuburantly concentrated in this pond and it's marshy edge: white egrets, blue herons, koots, red winged blackbirds, wild geese, dragonflies, damselflies, water striders and other insects, spiders, swimming creatues and wriggling water creatures, water boatmen, mosquito larvae and tiny fish, frogs both fully grown and immature tadpoles, deer, fox and bobcat... I saw these or found fresh evidence of these creatures each day I returned to this watery idyll.
Part of the set, Canyon & Desert in Springtime
Although from a distance, the land in Crete -- level open areas and hillsides -- look as if they are covered with "soft" textured spherical and globular plants, up close (and personal) I found the plant communities to be dominated by many different shrubs and forbs that were extremely prickly. They have evolved thorns and stinging prickles as a defense against the wild goats and sheep that roam the countryside. It was hard to hike through these areas with a skirt. I ended up wearing long pants most of the time even though the weather was warm enough for bare legs.
Part of the set, Crete.
if you'd like to read a poem I wrote to go with this series, please click here.
Part of the Set, Milkweed Mother. Read the dedication here
This is the actual unsaturated color of this delphinium. It's one of the rare true-blues in flowers.
[I]f you know wilderness in the way that you know love, you would be unwilling to let it go. We are talking about the body of the beloved, not real estate.
-- from Terry Tempest Williams
Part of the set Ruinous Beauty: www.flickr.com/photos/montanaraven/sets/1232701/
also part of the set,Home & Studio here
If you're interested in the story about this tangle, I posted it in my blog, Raven's Nest here: ravengrrl.blogspot.com/2005/11/what-strange-tangle.html
I actually considered taking some of these wonderful curved branches home to use them in my sculptures, then I realized it already is a sculpture and I'd be "dismantling" it. I'll just have to enjoy Nature's artfulness in the great outdoors!