Day Thirty-One

New Moon.
Today is the final day. Grey dark day lit only by the glowing yellow of the trees under slate grey skies. Sounds of winds in the trees, rustling leaves, windchimes. Swarms of birds swoop and soar across the sky. There is no way to capture all this. Go outside. Pay attention. Breathe it in. That is the best I can do.

Today's object was some sort of organic matter--a leaf or a corn husk, something of the sort. It fluttered and flapped when I photographed it--a blur of motion and light across the page; it seemed perfect.

Thanks for joining me.

Day Thirty

Tomorrow is the new moon. This project is drawing to a close. Today was a crazy busy day. My walk today was brief and brisk--just the walk to and from the coffeeshop. Found this broken blue marble on the mossy sidewalk on my way home.

Day Twenty-Nine

Monday is new moon. Only two more days after today. Found this card tucked into a chainlink fence: The amount of life and heath you are entitled to is between you and your creator... What is interfering with that is between you and me. not creepy. not creepy at all.

Day Twenty-Eight

Bit of cedar-sprig tucked into the bundle of cables climbing up the side of a telephone pole.

Day Twenty-Seven

Nothing for today. Sometimes daily practice is a hard thing to sustain. Tomorrow. Tomorrow.

Day Twenty-Six

Somehow a strange long day. I went out after dark, walked and walked and I couldn't find anything until I happened upon this. All the posters had been stripped from this telephone pole. All that was left was a small corner of a page. Call.

Day Twenty-Five

Found this leaf trapped beneath the hatch to Portland City Water. I freed it and brought it home.

Day Twenty-Four

Quarter Moon.
Found this plastic spoon stuck into the moss between the stones of a rock wall. Nearby was an ice cream carton full of rainwater.

Day Twenty-Three

There was a brief moment without rain today. Still, the streets were slick, and everything was covered with water. Portland looked like it just emerged from the bottom of a lake. This spiky little creature was under the tree it fell from--amidst fallen leaves and greenery thrown by yesterday's storm.

Day Twenty-Two

As with any practice, there are days that you just don’t make it. It is hard not feel guilty about that, but this is what the world looks like outside my window. Today is a day for staying indoors.

Day Twenty-One

A fallen rose petal in a brief sunbreak on a rainy November day.

Day Twenty

Ginko leaf by night

Day Nineteen

Walked up Thurman today, 4 1/2 miles--2 1/4 up, 2 1/4 back. This pink ribbon tied to a fern was somewhere near mile 1 1/2 from the gate. I'm pretty sure it was signifying that the plant was to be removed, which made me doubly pleased to have found it, and be taking it away with me.

Day Eighteen

Fall seems to be bleeding towards winter now. I found this rainbeaten leaf on the pavement on the Springwater Corridor today, its skeletal structure slowly exposing itself to the elements, its color fading to a softly muted brown.

Day Seventeen

Full Moon
From waxing to waning. Halfway done.
A beautiful sunny day. The time change still has me thrown. I went for what I thought would be a late-afternoon walk, but the shadows were already long and low across the streets and the grass. I caught sight of this little red flag waving beneath the picnic bench from the other side of the park.

Day Sixteen

I've been thinking a lot lately about macro and micro, and the parallels that can be drawn between. I liked how this chunk of bark looked so much the side of a cliff. The textures of the wood where it is broken mimic and reflect the patterns of rock on the side of a mountain.