Wax figure of James Dean at the Pigeon Ford Hollywood Wax Museum. It was a little strange to see his likeness in color.
One of my pandemic projects, a paint by number of Vincent van Gogh’s Starry Night. Watching it turn from squiggles and numbers to an actual painting has made my life feel a little less like Bill Murray’s in Groundhog Day.
A quick shot taken on the side of the road during a bus tour of the Yukon. I had only read descriptions of black spruce trees in Jack London’s The Call of the Wild, and was exited to see them in person. Dark spruce forest frowned on either side the frozen waterway. The trees had been stripped by a recent wind of their white covering of frost, and they seemed to lean toward each other, black and ominous, in the fading light.
No New Year’s Eve celebrations are planned here in Charlotte this year, due to the 10pm curfew in place. I typically spend the evening at home in my pajamas, but I will miss watching the typical crowds celebrating in New York City as the ball drops in Times Square.
My humble view of yesterday’s conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter from my driveway. Peering at it glimmering through the tangle of branches was like looking ahead at 2021. It’s right in front of us, and yet there is so much standing in the way of the typical new year hope and wonder.
I love when the sun is covered by a thin cloud cover, letting you get a glimpse without being blinded.
Cedar planks for sale at the Gibson Mill Depot. The warm burgundy hues are gorgeous, but it was the scent wafting through the vender stalls that caught my attention first. If only a photograph could translate the wonderful smell.
A large starfish I spotted on the beach at Icy Straight Point in Alaska last year It’s also a pretty accurate description of what I’ll be up to for the rest of the month, since I’m off from work until next Tuesday.
An extra fire sunset from last year, so vivid it made the local news.