Beholding beauty: Epiphany's Eve

A few pictures taken between January 1 and January 5th.

Inside our front door looking out...I wondered who will pass through this door this year?

I always thought it would be neat to have a leaded front door. I still think it is wonderful.
And a tall red headed woman was the first person through the door this new year. That is considered to be bad luck in some cultures, but around here, we think it is a blessing!

I looked out the window at our Crepe Myrtle.

The beautiful graceful limbs remind me of the sculptured knees of the Pieta in Milan.

A knee ready to bend and run...the limbs are smooth and cool, yet have a texture like firm skin. I often run my hands over them, enjoying touching this tree that has so many guises throughout the year.

The camellia budded just before we left for SLC. I expected it would have bloomed by the time we returned; instead it has swollen only slightly in the past two weeks. I photographed it Friday morning.

Maybe it will fully bloom in time for Epiphany.

It rained a bit on Saturday. Two days ago it was freezing, and we brought in our potted plants. This morning it was warm and muggy out, and the rain drops lingered on every surface, trapped against the humid air.

Splashes of red still spangle the yard; the mostly bare trees have shed their colorful leaves, yet a few linger on in glory.

I would have missed this exuberant design had it fallen earlier when leaves were fluttering freely all over. I'm glad I got to see its unusual pattern.

A drop that stayed, and was admired, while others passed to the soil without notice.

A trip to Target for household supplies; how different the trip felt with Bernie gliding slowly beside my elbow.

Going three wheeling in Target: Not quite every man's dream. But oh so much insight was gained about life!

At the garden center I was disappointed in the selection of pansies and other winter plantings. As I wandered about I saw a young man seated amongst saplings, looking intently at the tiny plants.

I asked him what he was looking at, and he told me he was watching the caterpillars.

Monarch butterflies, still in earthbound form.

Their black antenna waved about as they nestled against the willowy branches.

A few chrysalis were found. I marveled at how the beautiful little form was anchored to the pottery with a fine silken threads.

How wonderful that our garden center leaves the caterpillars alone on their plants, letting them feed undisturbed.

I wonder if I will see them again fluttering by in the garden in the spring.

Late in the evening I rode my bike down to the end of our street to pick up our mail. The air was warm and a gentle breeze fluttered my hair as I rode through our quiet neighborhood. Overhead the stars were brilliant.

It was the last night of Christmas.

Somehow the lights that seemed so crazed to me at the end of November seemed peaceful and right to me now.

"Yes, it is still Christmas for a few more hours," I though.

Tomorrow we will celebrate a new shining forth, a new revelation, a new manifestation.

Epiphany.

I hope there will be many moments of epiphany in the coming days for us all.