Daily Light Show across the street.

In Tyler, we certainly love our trees, even if we starve them to death by hauling away their fallen leaves yearly.  

  At my house I had a huge Hackberry that was in on the edge of some WPA rock work.  Had come up, as Hackberries do, as a volunteer, and gotten big when the property was a rental unit.  When I took over in the early 80s it was too late to do much about it by hand.  Later I planted a Wisteria near it which grew to epic size over the years.  In two decades it climbed into the Hackberry and killed it.  As the tree came down, the vines tended to "catch" them, so little by little I disposed of a huge tree.  I expected to cut the Wisteria down to a big ball.  Instead, last years freeze killed the Wisteria graveyard dead.  

  Wisteria usually can't be killed without nuclear weapons.  But, now they are both gone.  At the same time, a few trees were taken out across the street in AC Gentry's back yard.

  This opened up a view out the front of my second story windows every morning.  I live on the second story.  An amazing thing happens around the first of the year.  I'd never noticed it before, though I admit that I've only been here 50 years or so.

  When the Sun is to the South, (Winter, they call it...), and the leaves are off the trees an amazing ballet of reflection and shadow plays on the gray blank wall of AC's combined garage and studio.

  This is the last year of this.  By the Spring the main tree showing the most interesting shadow will be taken down.  It's dead- killed by new owner who had it trimmed.  It was starving to death, like most big old city trees.  I argued for NOT trimming it, or cutting it down, so she just had it trimmed enough to kill it a couple years later.  

  Every sunny morning I'm after it with Hasselblad and roll film.  Every morning it changes a little.  Over a week it changes a lot.  

  Last year I shot negatives with both my view cameras.  This year its all 120 film and usually an 80mm.  I don't bother to even check exposure any more.  I've got it in my head.

  Gets a couple frames at least.  Yesterday it got a whole roll.  I have a six foot ladder,  (My desert landscape ladder that is too ratty to steal).   My neighbors were already used to my eccentrics.

Big cams and Lucy supervising last March.  Shadow morphs along.  I'm not seeing this yet.

I have a bulging file of negatives and proofs.  This is hardly even a sample.  Actually bought a 250mm for the Hasselblad to isolate this wall.  Didn't really help.  80 and 150 are plenty.

Just the window reflection.

What would Minor think?  Of course, he wouldn't think.  He'd react.  In the flow.

AC is gone a couple years now and the house is sitting.  Two spindly Holly Hocks sprang out of nowhere last year.  One of them disappeared, mysteriously.  I think the ice took it.

Yesterday.  Off ladder.  One of the charming things about iPhone is that it timestamps the info along with the photo file.  This was 8:17:13 AM.

Yesterday morning, February 18.  Had to drop a phone chat with Providence friend and bounce out the door.

I don't want anything fancy.  Just show me the regular stuff and I'm happy.  That's me waving at whoever I was texting.  Rita, probably.

 Writing this at 3:30 AM.  Sunrise at 7:00.  Who knows?  Hasselblad has taken to sleeping by the door with one eye open, ready to jump out to work at a moments notice.  My busted desert ladder is behind a bush across the street.  Nobody would ever steal it, though they might throw it away.

  Not a one of these printed.  Nobody wants my dramatic stuff, much less images of a building wrapped in shadow and reflection.  Still, art obsession doesn't care about anything but itself.  It's like a bad girlfriend who knows she's good looking.  Just keep spending money on me and I'll let you.

  But she's exciting to be around.