Common Nature

Taken on 17 April 2017 at 17:00 US Eastern Daylight Savings Time in Dayton, Ohio, US:





This is a snapshot, taken some years earlier, from the place I left in May of 2023. Cherry blossoms are relatively uncommon in Dayton, but flowering crabapples, in red, mauve, pink, and white, are a signature of spring—and this specimen, fallen face down onto the concrete sidewalk, is a perfectly serviceable representation of the sad beauty of transience. The flower is long since gone, of course; so is the tree that bore it, sawn down in the gentrification project when the property changed hands at just about the beginning of COVID quarantine; so is the irascible albino squirrel who claimed it as territory (you don’t seriously think that little expletive deleted deigned to hold still for a photo.) And now, in the Rust Belt desertion and inexorable southward demographic gravitational suck, I’m gone from the premises too.

(I never bothered to photograph much of the surroundings of my native and near-lifelong Dayton: first because I didn’t own a camera until 2010, and didn’t figure out how to host the images until the mid-to-late teens, and didn’t own a home computer of any sort until 2020, and above all because I never anticipated leaving until it was too late.)

Taken 4 March 2025 at 16:42 Eastern Standard Time, in the alley behind my apartment complex in full daylight. The adjacent utility pole (a sliver of the line is visible in the upper left corner) is probably the reason the tree was felled.



This one is a study in complex crunchy textures and value and hue variations of grey and gray. (Though extremely muted, it’s not achromatic, being mottled with the faintest tinges of yellow, brown, and green:

Taken at 5:52 PM EST 22 December 2023, this is something I really should’ve posted a year ago; I’m squeezing it under the wire just as the outgoing Lunar Year expires.

From the parking lot of my neighborhood Publix: the Rabbit prepares to hand the year over to the Dragon.