In the big scheme of things, I am just one person, one set of feet walking across the National Mall and into the National Gallery. I am just one camera capturing light and shadow, positive space and negative line.
However “only” I am, I do have a vision of a just and safe space for every human being.
And in the big scheme of things that vision, that art, remains visible, discoverable, actionable.
Monarch butterflies come through northeastern Pennsylvania every year, finding our cone flowers tempting way stations. This year a specimen stayed focused on the nectar hunt long enough for me to snap dozens of photos from a variety of angles. I like these three perspectives for the detail that I could observe and research.
The first photo distinctly shows the black dot on the vein in each hind wing, a field mark that identifies this beauty is a male.
In this second photo, I am struck by the Monarch’s thorax, perfectly coordinated with the black and white polka dot wing trim.
In this final shot, the Monarch wings held in the vertical plane, I get a clear glimpse of the feet searching for nectar among the cone flower’s nectaries.
What a delight to get reacquainted with this lovely symbol of hope and transformation.
This time of year I can wander my yard, equal parts naturalized woodsy, goldenrod-filled meadow, and human-cultivated garden, and hear the earth’s pulse. A Tufted Titmouse song peals over the trees, setting up territory for one more clutch. Soft coos drift between Mourning Dove mates, one on nest, the other on roof. And high pitched whistles drift among leaf rustles, feathered ventriloquists hiding their fledged selves from two and four legged threats. The robins have had another successful clutch emerge into my private preserve. One short-tailed fledgling remained composed as I gingerly captured her wait. I anticipate a week of new generation sightings.