Was out roaming a natural habitat area on this past Christmas day with my camera and my son. He also had his camera and we parted ways when we arrived. He was headed toward a large wetland area to take photos while I just wanted to roam haphazardly to find photos to take. We both ended up at our meeting place after about four hours. Just as he was wrapping up his photo session he dropped his camera accidentally and broke his view finder. Now he has to deal with a minor repair which usually is not so minor when you see the price quote from the camera repair company. But aside from that unfortunate incident he felt lucky that his lens did not break.
Above is one of the photos I captured that day. The thread between the pickets were web threads made by some spider. The threads marched from picket to picket for at least twenty feet.
The web threads reminded me of a William Stafford poem I found in a book titled Nature and the Human Soul, by Bill Plotkin. I have borrowed it placing it below.
The Way It Is
There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.
