Cypress trees...I just love them.  Part of it has to do with where they hang out.  That would be all along the lovely river banks in the surrounding area.  They provide lovely color for us in the Fall, a handy roost for buzzards (see black spots at the top of this one),debris catchers for flash floods, jumping off points for imagination.   In the image below a fallen bit is suspended above the colored stones of the Comal river in New Braunfels.  The water was soon clear and beautiful it reminded of stained glass.

According to Texas Parks and Wildlife, the Bald Cypress that grows along fresh water rivers in my neck of the woods only grow in the United States now.  The Sabinal river takes its name from the Spanish word sabino which means cypress. 

This image The Cypress Sirens was captured along that river.

So you can see why these are some of my favorite subjects.  It doesn't matter if they are viewed from the bank, or a tube but they really shouldn't be viewed from a speeding car.  Next time you see them, stop and say Hello.  They'll have a story to tell if you listen. 

December Mists

As a photographer you are always looking for that sweet light. A light that does more than just illuminate. It becomes a part of the photograph. Foggy,misty, pea soup mornings do that for me. The damp turns my mundane often over looked neighborhood into a place full of possiblities. Who knows what could walk out of the mist with a story to tell. So I spent this morning within a few miles of my home enjoying what a little moisture does to the landscape and my perspective. The flickr link in the right column will show you some of my other favorite images from this morning. This particular tree for many years held a hawk's nest at the very top. The limb finally broke and I guess they decided it was a bad risk to build again. That doesn't keep me from scrutinizing it every time I drive by, which is fairly often, just in case they move back to The Hawk Tree.

We Thought you was a Toooaaaad

After a wonderful Thanksgiving lunch I took a stroll to see what I could see. That's one of my favorite things to do..see what I can see, like the bear went over the moutain. I found this little guy perched on the edge of a fence post. I thought at first it was a cicada husk but no, it was a Gray Tree Frog. I've heard plenty of the little guys but this was my first chance to get up close and personal, so to speak. He was very patient. Large groups of family members took photos and debated exactly what he was. A venomous, Brazilian Vampire Frog that caused instant aging if he spat suddenly at you or a toad. What he was was a little bit of magic, just hanging out on a warm afternoon enjoying his Thanksgiving.

Back to Nature

I not only got back to nature, I got right down there in it. It seems like a really good idea at the time. It was cool. I had yard clothes on so it didn't matter that I was soaking wet when I got up. I was one with mother earth. The birds sang and the world was reflected in each dew drop. Then I got home.... My arms and chest are covered with little itchy bites. While I was communing with nature, lying on my belly some wee beesties were feasting on my vulnerable soft bits. The lesson? I have no idea because I'd do it again in a heart beat.

Arms Akimbo

She stood, arms akimbo. This word popped up today. I remember reading it frequently and knew its meaning but got to thinking, I don't remember ever saying it out loud in a sentence. This image reminded of it again this afternoon.

The butterfly stood, arms akimbo, waiting for me to make my point.

adv.
In or into a position in which the hands are on the hips and the elbows are bowed outward:

I dare you. Use it in a sentence and fascinate your friends.

The Snake Sneeks

You Mocking Me?

New Growth

Golden Fronted Woodpecker

The Empty Nest

I can always find something that is interesting to photograph at Mom and Dad's. This is a photograph of a now abandoned martin nest in a martin house. The houses are lowered each year after the brood has been raised. They'll remain at eye level until February when they are raised again to welcome the returning birds. What determines which pieces make it into the nest? Size, color, texture? Why that particular feather or that bit of string. I love nests.