World of small

[vaneramos]

I made a decision about finances, but will deal with than in another post.

At 26°C it was a typical summer weekend in cottage country, but there were no leaves on the hardwood, few insects and hardly other people around. The other clue was a patch of soft ice in our bay, and even that had vanished by this morning. The cottage always pulls me out of my head and into my senses. The stillness does it. So do tiny things overhead and under your feet. I am continually drawn onto my belly to photograph mosses, ferns, fungi and last year's leaves.

Saturday morning Dad, Danny and I clambered up the leafy slope to a granite escarpment behind the road. The cliff faces north so sunlight rarely reaches it. A few ice formations still clung to the rock, and it was entirely covered in moss. We had to go up and touch. It felt thicker and softer than shag carpet, like petting a large, untidy Muppet, and this secret forest nook would have been just the place to find a Jim Henson creature.

The first eight images in this Flickr set were taken over the weekend.