making progress

The Glade Ferry. This early in the morning the mist collides with the colder air above and swirls patterns like cobweb strands meant to impede progress.


Lead to believe all paths were meant to be taken the warning of a pilon does not stop the eye from investigating further within the frame.


As we approached from behind, all we could see was the paws resting on the steering wheel. Then the face, eyes staring straight ahead at the road, he turns, as anyone would, as we approach alongside, and smiles, a strange contented dog smile, a master in control of his own road.


The white fingers spread like a carefully constructed ornament provides a stark white contrast and a circular distraction in the conformity of the straight lines.


Amidst the desolate brown and muted greens the pink wash of the weeds in the ditch brings a glimmer of hope to the gray day.


An alien space capsule in the strange land of too much affluence for the good of the landscape waits to carry to rich to the top of the adventure playground.


As friends they remain attached to the top of the hill while all the others disappeared to make a clear path to the sinking light behind a vista reserved for those whose strength keeps them rooted while the years progress around them.