Well aware that chance favours the prepared,
my little camera is tucked securely into my
jacket pocket. The sky is wide and blue,
flecked with white wisps of vapour, and
the sun, not yet winter-impotent is melting
the glistening frost off roof tops. Crows call,
circling tree masts; the crispness of leaves
underfoot echo our perambulating footsteps.
This is the season when dense colour and
form is displaced with a far more subtle
palette, no less reflective of flora diversity
but delicately subdued in tenor, evoking
pensive thoughts and emotions. Suddenly
the arras has become extended, as sightlines
expand, for the brilliant green screen has
vanished, awaiting spring's emergence.
Despite the chill, small white moths and
flying mites have confoundedly hatched,
flitting through the sere woodland in their
brief acquaintance with life, swiftly to be
extinguished with the night's oncoming
chill. The eye lingers on mosses, yet-verdant
ferns, lichens, and fungi growing atop
distorted and decaying snags and boughs.
A crow closely observes our progress along
the wooded pathways and swoops to retrieve
a peanut from a deposit in the bark of an old pine
just as a disconcerted squirrel reaches to
claim its daily prize. Elsewhere, startled
faces greet at close proximity; one depositing
the offerings, the other absorbed in taking
swift possession. Camera co-ordination
does not always succeed. When it does, it
represents the clear triumph of preparedness.
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