These images, from yesterday, appear to be abstract, but they’re very real and have short stories behind them. The first image is of new cattail leaves floating – seemingly levitating -- in our pond above a reflection of the blue sky and last year’s “tails”:
(The story: We have a muskrat in that pond, whom we call Murray; he often chews off the bases of five or six new cattail fronds, then swims away with just one. This waste may decimate cattail growth in our pond, but that isn’t a bad thing.)
The second image is of the only live tulip in an often dark, now-untended patch. It is desperately groping for the sun to open it, but remains tightly closed. The flower’s lovely shape and pastel colors conjure thoughts of Cupid’s arrowhead or, maybe, Italian spumoni ice cream on a stick:
(The story: The tulip’s patch is in the sometimes-dark corner of a nearby, usually bustling, boathouse; that building will not be open this year due to the corona virus. The question is whether this determined tulip will be able to open to see the summer before it dies.)
(Brooklin, Maine)