A fish sculpture in Paris. 2007.
When it gets late, and it gets tired, I typically find I don’t have the energy to do actual writing. All too often, this is what motivates me to post photos. Not to say that I don’t often have photos that I want to share, but posting photos over text has been my default when I’m tired.
The Majestic Cod of the Massachusetts State House, Boston. 2016.
And then I try to come up with a catchy title. But sometimes, a catchy title catches me. And makes me laugh a little inside. And makes me hunt down (or in this case, go fishing for) appropriate content to go with it. When in doubt, post a trout.
A gleeful boy taking a grouchy fish for a joyride. As seen on a bridge in Paris. 2007.
And so it was that I remembered that I have quite a few fish photos. Even more specifically, I have a bunch of photos of fish statues and sculptures, taken over quite a long period of time, and in quite a few different locations. (I was sorry to not find any fish sculptures in my photos from Asia, so it looks like I have only 2 continents represented. Unless you want to consider this startlingly shiny gold fish furniture from my hotel in Shanghai.
A shark shack in small town near Dublin, Ireland. 2014.
A surprised looking fish in Boston. Probably not a trout. 2016.
But I have a terrible confession to make: while I may have lots of photos of fish, I really don’t know whether there is a trout among them.
A deranged looking fish in London. Almost certainly not a trout. 2005.
A fish bone sculpture from the DeCordova Museum in Massachusetts. 2012
So, what say you? Can you find a trout among today’s catch?
I guess I may have my head in the clouds more than most, because I do find myself noticing the sky quite often, and even pointing it out to others. Take, for example, the rather spectacular, improbably pink sunset below, which I saw during my son’s soccer practice one evening.
I was completely entranced by the shape and color, and took quite a few photos. When the soccer practice ended, the other parents and I walked toward the filed to collect our kids. I asked the nearest parent: “Did you see that sunset?” In turns out that she had not, even though she had been sitting only a few feet away from me.
The composition below is another one I saw during a soccer practice. What the photo doesn’t quite capture is the the colorful right edge of the cloud, which had both pink and green.
And because I like to post things in sets of at least three, here is a non-sunset cloudscape from yesterday morning.
On my walk in the woods last weekend, my eye was caught by a particularly complicated-looking tree stump. Perhaps it was caused by the weather, or insects, or some combination thereof, but the wood of the stump was carved into an intricate display of spires and arches. It reminded me of a fantasy city, such as from the Lord of the Rings movies.
My daughter, though, tells me she sees ghosts and screaming faces. I can actually see this, too.
What do you see in the patterns fo the stump? A fantasy scene or a nightmare? Or do you, rather, see only the weathered and broken wood shards of a tree stump?
A year ago today was an intensely emotional day. At this moment, I can’t recall any other comparable days in my life, wherein I felt both joy and despair so close together. The intensity of the emotions I felt that day about public events easily rival any that I have felt with respect to events in my own personal life.
I have thought back many times this past year that I wish I could have bottled the giddiness I felt when I cast my vote, excited about my participation in the historic occasion of electing the first woman president of the United States. I’ve wished that I could tap back into that momentarily unfettered optimism that kept a genuine smile on my face as I stood outside our town’s polling place, holding signs for both local and national candidates, and waving cheerfully at all who passed.
We all know how things turned out that evening. And that day has cast a long shadow across the past year for me. Again, there are few events that have transpired in my lifetime that have so deeply affected me. Not a day has gone by this past year that I have not given my thoughts, and often my time and energy, in big ways and small, into addressing the results of that day.
It’s amazing to me how sometimes something trivial and ordinary can appear both beautiful and remarkable, given the right set of circumstances. This little scrap of paper, torn from some packaging and left on a table, caught the afternoon light coming in from the window to reveal in its shadow an unexpectedly elegant spiral.
When it’s after 11, and you really need to get to sleep, you struggle to come up with what to post for your daily post. You’ve toyed around with all kinds of post ideas during the day, but then you’ve run out of both time and energy. Ultimately, you decide once more to post a bunch of photos of leaves. In this case the leaves in the photos had all caught your eye for their striking pattern of lines, with veins contrasting with the body of the leaf. And also in this case you are really me. And both you and I should really get to sleep.