Author: greg stene
a house, a window, crumbling adobe
Red Door
One-Fourth
Green Planks With No Sun
Door
The Pink Hotel
Out West
gone.
gone now. covers over my head. hibernate.
complexity arises.
about 6 days of noticing, and only a few days of actual observation, and complex seed patterns emerge. but there, top-left, do we see the beginning of new leaf patterns within seed pods? what madness is this?
my confusion.
on March 26, I thought it was going to be a flower. it seems to be becoming something else.
community gardens are opening soon. maybe.
is this the signal that it’s all beginning?
coming attraction.
it will change over the summer. i hope to show how.
hoping for winter’s survival.
an afternoon spent in nature.
we have many, many bridges here in Portland. in time, they become part of the naturescape.
the garden. two benches await.
the end of January, and already looking forward to the rest-times, and the lemonade. or beer.
the story remains untold.
brown leaves fly, smearing, as the roses tell their story.
sit a spell. listen to the garden.
waiting for them to come back.
one large 5×1″ bolt. three washers. one Nut.
what happens when you let the monsters out for the night.
a block of spalted maple.
the everyday mysterious.
after an early fall shower.
5280 Lens Mafia 