Tuesday, January 6, 2026, 18* F, 74% RH, 0745
Perhaps the paper wasp nest I photographed hanging over the place where Chris was shredding brush last summer, one of several hanging high unseen by leaves, discovered only when sitting in the right place looking softly at what is before; perhaps under the snow in tatters that can’t be reassembled someone will find and not know what it was. Only a slight cap, the beginning remains attached to the branch covered in last night’s snow. Are there those that survive in covert spaces immune to Mariah’s raging? If so, what happens to them? Do they become summer houses for spiders? Would a fairy come in at night, rearrange things? Decide where to put windows, a stairway? Perhaps an escape hatch, a kitchen?
For months I watched that nest wondering if Mariah would cast it down. Wondering if I could find it, feel the weight of that world even though it be empty. It got smaller as I watched day after day Mariah taking pieces slowly unwrapping a gift. I wanted it to fly like a balloon not cave in on itself.
Before our eyes, transition.
Photo: LJ Austin (Intentional Camera Movement)
