Winter Pond


The ducks are of two minds. I’m a bother, but I am something to yell at. Some jump to the ice. At dusk, the ducks might as well be ice. Winter pastels fade into brilliant blues and reds that spread from the horizon across the pond, the field, the day.

“Those ducks . . . they don’t know what ice is,” a jogger calls to me from up on the trail.

I don’t know how to answer. “Ducks?” I say.

(Prints of some images are available here. Use code WORDPRESS10 for 10% off your purchase.)

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24 thoughts

  1. There are no words to describe how beautiful this gallery is. Blue is such a difficult colour to capture, but you’ve made it do things I never thought it could. Thank you.

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