When I work up this morning to a thick icy fog, immediately the wetlands came to mind. What would they be like in these unusual conditions? The world, transformed by delicate but pervasive ice, feels uniquely quiet, supremely still.
The muted colors make me notice different things on this familiar route. Barbed wire contours stand out starkly sheathed with ice. Wire writing scrolled between fence posts. Textures are exaggerated.
The mountains are blanketed by fog. With the absence of the enfolding mountains on all sides, I feel a sense of isolation in the wide valley; a bleakness with out the color, texture and dimensionality of our mountains. The majesty of the wetlands is diminished by the invisibility of the ever-changing canvas of the mountains.
The muted colors make me notice different things on this familiar route. Barbed wire contours stand out starkly sheathed with ice. Wire writing scrolled between fence posts. Textures are exaggerated.
The mountains are blanketed by fog. With the absence of the enfolding mountains on all sides, I feel a sense of isolation in the wide valley; a bleakness with out the color, texture and dimensionality of our mountains. The majesty of the wetlands is diminished by the invisibility of the ever-changing canvas of the mountains.
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the chicken wire ice lace is so beautiful...
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